Shameless
by Anvan
Summary: Compliant with DH not epilogue . Harry, Head Auror, has trouble sleeping at night. Draco, Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, lives a public yet solitary life. When a dark wizard causes mayhem at Hogwarts, they need to confront their demons and each other. R
1. The Inspiring Song

_I hear you calling and it's needles and pins _

_I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name _

_Don't wanna touch you but you're under my skin _

_I wanna kiss you but your lips are venomous poison _

_Your poison running through my veins_

_(song by Groove Coverage – 'Poison')_

**Note**: When I heard the song, I reacted to the lyrics, not so much the version which was by Groove Coverage. This is the original, which is preferable (by far): .com/watch?v=Qq4j1LtCdww&ob=av2n

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all that belongs to it is rightfully the property of J.K. Rowling. No money is being earned with this work (the disclaimer accounts for the whole story, but will not be repeated in every chapter as it disturbs the flow of the story).


	2. Under My Skin

Harry groaned, leaning forward. He pulled at his hair in frustration. The window was pitch-black and he realised that another one of his night rests just got fucked up. With a sigh, he lit the candle beside his bed and reached for his book.

_Don't wanna touch you but you're under my skin__._ The song echoed in his mind.

He'd be damned if he spent another minute trying to understand it.

'_I hope you will always be very happy, Dorian,' said Hallward, 'but I don't quite forgive you for not having let me know of you engagement. You let Harry know.'_

'_And I don't quite forgive you for being late for dinner,' broke in Lord Henry, putting his hand on the lad's shoulder, and smiling as he spoke. 'Come, let us sit down and try what the new _chef_ here is like, and then you will tell us how it all came about.'_

'_There really is not much to tell,' cried Dorian, as they took their seats at the small round table. 'What happened was simply this. After I left you yesterday evening, Harry, I dressed, had some dinner at that little Italian restaurant in Rupert Street you introduced me to, and went down at eight o'clock to the theatre. Sibyl was playing Rosalind. Of course the scenery was dreadful and the Orlando absurd. But Sibyl! You should have seen her! When she came on in her boy's clothes she was perfectly wonderful. She wore a moss-coloured velvet jerkin with cinnamon sleeves, slim brown cross-gartered hose, a dainty green little cap with a hawk's feather caught in a jewel, and a hooded cloak lined with dull red. She had never seemed to me more exquisite. She had all the delicate grace of that Tanagra figurine that you have in your studio, Basil. Her hair clustered round her face like dark leaves round a pale rose._

Harry frowned at the book. Why on earth had Hermione suggested this novel to him? He surely wasn't about to sell his soul to the devil to be forever youthful. Frankly, he was very happy he'd lived through the whole Voldemort ordeal to grow old and wrinkly.

With whom then, a mean little voice asked in the back of his head. They never had gotten back together, but Harry wasn't sure who was to blame.

With an annoyed huff he sat up and put the novel aside. His body wasn't quite obeying him lately and neither was his mind. Which was exactly the reason Kingsley had sent him off on holiday, together with Ron. With Voldemort's unwanted visits to his mind gone, Harry had hoped his privacy would be respected.

"I wonder if I can perform a Sleeping Charm on myself," he muttered angrily.

"I can, you noisy git," grumbled Ron. "Why aren't you asleep this night?"

Same reason as all the other nights, Harry thought to himself, but as always…

"I just couldn't sleep," he lied blankly.

His best friend threw him a sleepy look.

"Want me to put you to sleep," he asked.

"Please," Harry nodded.

He crawled back under his covers. Next thing he knew he sank into a blissfully dark sleep, free of dreams and visitors.

***

Draco looked smugly at his own reflection in the hall mirror. With a slight shake of his head he caused his bangs to fall forward casually. Then he stepped out of his house and flew off on his broom. Hogwarts was within five minutes flight distance.

Besides, he was inclined to let his students wait on the first day of the year. It was the perfect opportunity to walk in on them and find out who were the noise-makers. His first class consisted of Slytherins and Gryffindors.

With a soft thud his boots touched Hogwarts ground. Draco stepped off his broom with the ease of an experienced pilot, walking up the gates to enter Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," said a grating voice, rather coolly.

Draco looked up to see Headmistress McGonagall in the hallway. She was always present at the beginning of the academic year, to welcome students and study faces. He knew she could cite all their names after the first two weeks, a feat he never quite bothered to get the hang of.

"Good morning," he replied calmly.

"I suppose your holidays have been replenishing," she asked, her tone betraying she did this mostly out of politeness rather than genuine interest.

"Quite," he said with a smirk.

His demeanour still got people off balance. With an inner gloat and an outer innocent face, he watched McGonagall's mouth tighten into a thin line.

"Good," she smiled back forcibly. "Then I will leave you to your duties."

Off she went, in pursuit of another teacher arriving at the school. Draco watched her leave, his grey eyes revealing nothing but amusement. Indifferently, he leaned against the gates, watching students flood in. Several girls students stared at him before quickly looking away again, when they passed through the gates.

The sorting ceremony would take place in half an hour, which left him with plenty of time to check whether the students' text books had been dropped off at his classroom. With a sudden swing of his cloak, Draco turned on his heels, heading down the fire-torch lit halls of Hogwarts.

His footsteps echoed far into the corridors, as he walked downstairs to the dungeons. It was a familiar walk, every time. Passing the Slytherin common rooms, Draco allowed himself a small smile.

He removed the spells from his office, which prevented students as well as anyone else unauthorised to enter. Inside he found them, neatly stacked in piles of ten: the text books for his courses. With a soft mumble, he made the torches on the walls light up the office.

It was exactly as he had left it. Not unsatisfied with himself, he started to remove all spells and charms which were unnecessary during the academic year. Nobody could get in or out, if he did not want them to.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said to the painting on the wall behind his desk.

Immediately, the floor plan of Hogwarts appeared, swarming with little feet and names. McGonagall's name and that of the other staff members stood out in bold. Their movement indicated it was time to go to the Great Hall.

Draco turned back to the hallways, the door closing shut behind him on its own.

***

"Harry! Ron!"

The familiar voice seemed to boom through the corridors of the ministry. Both young men turned to see Hermione smile at them. She'd only grown more beautiful over the years.

Flinging her arms around Harry, she squeezed him tight. Ron winked at Harry from behind her back, who in turn just rolled his eyes at his red-haired friend.

"Welcome back," she beamed.

Turning to Ron, she gave him a slight shove before hugging him as well.

"And you couldn't warn me when you'd be coming back?"

Ron grunted, wrapping his arms around her eagerly.

"Harry could've warned you too," he said in an indignant tone.

"I don't _live_ with Harry, Ron."

"How've things been around here," Harry asked, diverting Hermione's attention away from Ron.

"Ever so busy. I'm still trying to eradicate the system from pro-pureblood laws, but it takes time."

"Every great change takes time, Herm," said Ron kindly. "Look at Voldemort. 't Took the bloody git seven years and he still failed."

Harry thought back in a flash at the price they had paid. The ease with which some people dared brush their arguments off the table was appalling.

"Oh, and I think you've got a job at Hogwarts coming up," said Hermione, suddenly very serious.

"Ehn?"

"Hogwarts?" Ron exclaimed. "Why do they need an Auror?"

"Honestly, Ron, sometimes I wonder about your thick headedness. Obviously, they have reason to believe an Auror is needed at Hogwarts."

"Does Malfoy still teach there," Harry immediately asked.

"He does, but honestly, you'll have to let it go sometime. You know he steered clear of the Dark Arts."

"Hermione, he's the Dark Arts teacher. If we didn't know better about Snape, you could say he replaced him."

"Except that Draco's more good-looking," Hermione added cheekily, half an eye on Ron, who fell right into the trap.

"Don't you start! He's as bad as Lockhart. Bloody coward."

Harry sighed as his two friends started bickering. Five minutes later, he yanked Ron by the arm, pulling him into the Auror Headquarters.

"See you tonight, Herm," Ron yelled after a slightly huffy Hermione.

"Harry, come over for dinner, will you? I refuse to spend the evening alone with him."

_It would damn well be better_, Harry thought to himself, but he accepted the offer. Their relationship had been going up and down over the last few years. It drove Harry mad, but perhaps that was one of the reasons why he chose to remain single.

Both of them dropped into their seats at opposing desks. Harry quickly scanned through his paperwork, intent on having his staff out and about as soon as possible. It wasn't often that he took some time off and it had left him uneasy to leave as Head Auror.

Kingsley hadn't minded taking over the position for a while, but as Minister of Magic the man had his hands more than full. Harry was glad to be back. He noticed that Kingsley had done a great job keeping track of most of the pending jobs. There were simply not enough Aurors to get all the work done, he thought sourly.

His eyes fell on a piece of paper about Hogwarts.

"Ron, Hermione was right. There seem to be suspicions about a dark wizard, residing at Hogwarts."

"Blimey," Ron mumbled. "It'd think McGonagall was better than that…"

Harry kindly ignored the remark and read the letter.

"Guess I'll be heading back to Hogwarts then," Harry said, feeling somewhat odd about it.

"Yeah, it'll be different from having to lecture in Neville's classes." Ron paused for a moment. "Come to think of it, why didn't Malfoy ever ask you for lectures? It would've suited his classes perfectly."

Harry nodded in silence. Indeed, how had Malfoy been conducting his classes over the last years?


	3. Crashing Into Walls

Draco overlooked his students with something of a bored look. The girls were fanning themselves already, he noticed. His Slytherins were seated on the right hand side of the class, while the other half was filled with Gryffindors. The tension was palpable.

They had only been into the second week of the academic year, when one of the students had managed to blow up his potion-to-be for the first time. It would certainly not be the last one.

Just now another blow lit up the room. Several Slytherins laughed, seeing one of the Gryffindor girls sit in front of an exploded potion.

"Well done," Draco said in a cool voice. "You will have to do better than that if you wish to pass this course."

The girl looked at him with a dirt-stained face. "Can I please go and wash my face, professor?"

"No," he said simply. "Try again."

Most of the other students performed well, but only a few of them showed real aptitude for potions. Draco held Snape's reputation high and expected no less than O's from all of his students to pass.

He watched his students pour out of the room one by one, several shoves being exchanged between the two Houses. They were no better than he and Harry had ever been, Draco thought absently.

When the last student left the room, Draco checked all the potions to make sure none of them would lead a life of its own. With a few waves of his wand, he cleaned up the classroom and stalked into the hallways.

He walked passed his office, up the stairs and into the Entrance Hall.

This afternoon he had his Dark Arts class, so he decided to spend time in the Staff room. When he walked in, set on checking the Potions homework he had assigned students during the first week, Draco never expected to bump into Harry Potter.

***

_I want to love you but I better not touch._ The words distracted Harry and therefore prevented him from avoiding a collision.

Harry crashed with his back against the wall, as he collided with someone walking into the Staff room. Although, _walking _wasn't the right word. It had looked more like strutting…

_Oh, for fuck's sake_, he thought to himself as he recovered.

"Potter, what the hell are you doing here?"

_Good_, Harry thought. His mere presence was clearly enough to annoy Malfoy.

"Mr. Malfoy," cut in Minerva. "I implore you to mind your manners around the Head Auror. The past is well behind us, I believe."

She cocked her head at him in her typical cat-like way.

"If the past weretruly behind us, _Minerva_, I believe you and I would not treat each other the way we do."

Draco hadn't really wanted to bring that up, but her tone and Harry Potter's presence were enough to annoy him ever so slightly. The Headmistress looked taken aback at Draco's calmly spoken words, but Harry was furious.

"Where do you keep getting the nerve, Malfoy?"

"Harry, never mind this," interrupted Minerva. "Mr. Malfoy, go do whatever it was you came to do here. I need to speak to Harry in private."

"You've got an office for that," said the platinum-haired young man, pushing past both of them.

Harry watched him walk … strut to the nearest seat and crash into it. Minerva gave him a slight nudge at the elbow, indicating him to continue their walk. They did so in silence for a few minutes, before he brought it up.

"He hasn't changed, has he?"

The Headmistress of Hogwarts seemed in doubt, when she mulled over the answer to his question. Harry thought the answer would have been obvious.

"I honestly don't know, Harry," she said eventually. "I still can't believe he managed to get permission to teach the Dark Arts to the students. After all that had happened I hoped the name Malfoy would cease to open doors. Nevertheless sometimes I cannot help but _believe _that he does it all to help the children protect themselves better."

Harry snorted. "Making them dabble in the Dark Arts will not increase their abilities to fight it. It only creates more opportunities for abuse, especially if you consider the fact that he's Head of Slytherin."

"Well, of course he is," said Minerva. "How could he not be?"

They walked passed the fountain, over to the stairs removing themselves from Hogwarts.

"Is it true," Harry asked. "About the past still lingering between the two of you?"

Minerva looked at him crossly, which made her look even more like a cat.

"I'm afraid it is," she then sighed. "It costs me a great deal of effort to even look at the young man, without seeing his father and realising what they have cost us."

"Look," Harry said. "I'll be honest with you. Do you think this dark wizard is Draco or one of his students he corrupted? It could make my job a lot easier if that were the case."

"Harry, if I knew I would not have sent for you, now would I?"

Minerva managed to look at him in a stern yet kind manner. Harry smiled.

_It's too obvious, Harry_, said Hermione in his head. _Give it a rest_.

He raised his hands in annoyance. After all these years, he still found it difficult to deal with Draco. For more reasons than he could possibly muster.

"How many new teachers have you got, Minerva?"

"Three," she said. "But I've a list for you with all the names and peculiarities on them. I don't know what to think anymore."

"Has he openly used his powers on the students already?"

"Not that I know of and believe me, know it I would. So far, it seems as if he's just pestering the Staff with silly pranks."

"Pranks," Harry asked. "You don't call on me, just for some silly pranks. Seriously, what's been going on?"

"Well, these pranks have caused some disturbances I cannot ignore. Several times a Dementor 'got lost' somehow, terrorising students. So far, we have been lucky that none have received the Dementor's kiss, but it can hardly be called reassuring to have Dementors lurking about at Hogwarts."

Harry shook his head, memories crashing against the insides of his skull and he could feel a headache coming up. "No, not exactly…"

"Another thing has been the library," Minverva went on. "On several occasions has the Dark Arts sectioned been opened, uncalled for. What with Malfoy teaching the Dark Arts, that particular section is opened on very few and controlled occasions during the year."

She let out a soft sigh, as if reliving the moments.

"But over the past two weeks, it has opened 'by accident' four times. Some of our students have been found, flipping through much too advanced literature for their grade. Or simply the wrong kind of books."

"How does Malfoy react to this? I suppose it's his responsibility."

"Indeed, but he assured me from the first incident that it was an accident and that he did not understand. I _saw_ him perform the spells to seal it off again. It cannot have been his doing. Also, he put several spells on some of the truly dangerous books, now that we cannot trust the seals."

Harry considered for a brief moment whether Malfoy would have risked putting Minerva under an Imperio Curse, but the tone of her voice told him she had her doubts about Malfoy as well. She seemed to be saying that perhaps it could not have been him, but an accomplice might have done the trick.

The Head Auror realised he was letting the past lead him on, but it was difficult to ignore Malfoy's history of betrayal. Not once had the guy thanked Harry and his friends for saving his life either.

It was only a small effort to do so, right?

It was some sort of relief he wasn't the only one to stay on guard when it came to Malfoy, but it should not get in the way of his professionalism. Smacking himself mentally, he turned his attention back to Minerva.

"What do you expect of me? You have no clue who it is. Dragging me over cannot have gone unnoticed."

"Perhaps your mere presence will shoo him off," Minerva said. "After all, there isn't much left of Voldemort's army and adherents."

"You'd be surprised how unfaltering they still are."

Harry thought the information over for a minute.

"I somehow doubt it's a student. No student in his or her right mind would consider a Dementor a prank."

"Hardly," agreed Minerva. "The students were terrified. The Ministry could not account for an explanation either. It was as if the creature just apparated out of nowhere."

"A Dementor performing magic?" Harry shuddered involuntarily. "All right, I'll stick around for a while. I assume you've got a room ready and made for me?"

"Of course," Minerva said with a nod. "Oh, and Harry… I advise you to keep in mind the possibility that you might need to work together with Mr. Malfoy. After all, he _is_ our Dark Arts teacher."

Harry sighed almost inaudibly, but Minerva's ears caught the sound nonetheless.

"Well, as you said before. The past ought to be the past. I'm sure he and I are old and mature enough to cooperate, should the need for it arise."

His words sounded very certain, but within Harry simply could not shake the nasty feeling of mistrust.

***

Draco hardly slept that night. He simply stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. Watching his reflection.

Sodding Potter showing up at Hogwarts.

"Mr. Malfoy, I implore to you mind your manners around the Head Auror," he mimicked McGonagall in a scarily accurate voice. "Past is well behind us, my ass."

The house was silent. All Draco heard was his own breathing, steadily going in and out of his body. He threw one long leg over the other, his foot dangling in the air.

"Might as well get some exercise," he muttered to himself.

Draco got out of his bed, to stalk through the hallway into his exercise room. Seating himself on the first machine, he started exercising his abdomen. Whenever he went in this room, Draco tended to forget about time, not realising his clothes were soaked with sweat, until his body screamed in pain from exhaustion.

The night was no different. Hours went by, until Draco eventually caught eye of himself in the mirror walls. His hair was plastered against his forehead, sweat dripping down the nape of his neck over his broad, muscular back.

Silently, he padded over the carpeted floor of Malfoy Manor to the bathroom. Silence, so it seemed, was his best companion.

The water felt cold on his body, despite the fact it was above the average body temperature. Draco opened and closed his mouth, feeling water rinse him both on the inside and the outside, his eyes slid shut.

He succeeded at chasing his thoughts about the reasons for Potter's presence at Hogwarts from his mind, crawling into the king-size bed, exhausted. Draco Malfoy slept even before his still shower-damp hair hit the pillow.


	4. The Good Old Days

A week went by, in which nothing odd happened. Harry was beginning to wonder if, after all, it wasn't just one of the students playing tricks on the teachers. But the appearance of the Dementor simply did not add up.

Voldemort was dead and although there were still several ex-Death Eater children at Hogwarts, he doubted they would do something so irrelevantly obnoxious and openly foolish. If they wanted to gain something out of it, this would not be the way.

During the past week, Harry had succeeded at avoiding Malfoy, although they had passed each other in the hallways on several occasions.

Harry had trouble looking Malfoy in the eyes, whenever such an occasion occurred.

Malfoy on the other hand seemed to sense Harry's unease and did not hesitate to make matters worse. Taunting him, by telling the girl students who he was with remarks that made Harry flush in anger.

"_Girls, come now, don't you recognise the famous Harry Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived, commonly known as Gryffindor's Golden Boy," he had asked a few Hufflepuff girls one time. "Seriously, look at the man. You should be proud to meet such a legend. Oh, cut it out with the modesty, Potter. The girls w__ould love to meet a sexy legend like you!"_

Harry had been devastated to see the girls turn around, beaming at him expectantly. Malfoy did not mean a word he said, but paying Harry a compliment just to give him unwelcome attention while he was working was clearly a small price to pay.

Grudgingly, Harry had consented, hoping things would soon pass. Eventually, after a lot of questions, giggles, handshakes and autographs, Harry had managed to escape. Malfoy succeeded at playing this trick three times, although, Harry noticed with contempt, he did make sure not to involve any Slytherins.

On every occasion, Harry saw Draco sneak off, a huge smirk on his face.

"Gods, he's a _plague_," Harry grunted, while walking through the halls, scanning the surroundings for anything that seemed out of place.

Apart from that the song would simply not leave him. Not during his dreams and no longer when he was awake either.

_Your mouth, so hot. Your web, I'm caught. Your skin, so wet._

_I think I need to get laid,_Harry thought to himself, somewhat amused.

Distracted, he came to the Staff room, which he intended to pass by without further ado, had it not been for a familiar platinum blonde head in there, which he caught out of the corner of his eye.

For a second, Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure if he wanted a confrontation with Malfoy, but … For fuck's sake, they weren't children anymore, though Malfoy tried his best to prove otherwise.

So he walked in.

***

Draco cocked his ears at the sound of padding feet, heading for the Staff room. At this time of day, all students had classes. He didn't look up from his book, pretending ignorance as he saw a familiar exploded head walk by.

He never expected to see the figure back-pedal to come to a halt at the door of the Staff room.

_Heavens in Hell_, Draco thought. _Will Harry Potter make the first move?_

He still pretended ignorance, when Potter walked inside, though, if the Golden Boy had learned anything throughout the years he ought to know Draco already knew he was there.

"I know you heard me," came Potter's voice. It sounded a bit shaky, like in the good old days.

***

Malfoy looked up at Harry lazily.

"Hello there, Potter. Come for a friendly chat," his voice drawled.

Harry shuddered, remembering that voice …

"I hardly think chatting with you will ever happen on a friendly basis," he said, cutting off his own thoughts.

He _really_ needed to focus now. With Malfoy tangibly present things did not seem as simple as he thought they would be. Or as they _ought_ to be, all things considered.

Malfoy made a repeated tsk-sound at Harry's insult.

"Still as mature as ever, ey Potter?"

"You're a good one to talk, Malfoy," Harry bit. "You're the one playing these tricks on me in the hallway."

Harry watched Malfoy close his book, agonisingly slow, his long slender fingers caressing the velvety cover.

"Honestly, I'd think you'd appreciate that. I never did tell you how grateful I was for your heroic actions five years ago. People forget so easily."

"You've got a point there," Harry said. He sat himself down opposite of Malfoy, far enough for his own good, but not too far to arouse suspicion. "Seems to me you've forgotten who saved your sorry ass in the first place."

Malfoy remained silent, taking in Harry with his steel-grey eyes.

"You despise me, don't you, Potter?"

"If I gave you any thought I probably would."

Harry watched a smirk tug at Malfoy's lips. What was it about this guy? He never seemed to be caught off guard, while he, Harry, always seemed off guard around him. It had been so from the very beginning and Harry hated it. For once in his life, he wished he could be smooth, like…

"Why are you here, Potter," Malfoy's low voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Here as in at Hogwarts, or here as in this room with you?"

That sounded so odd. Malfoy's eyebrows shot up suggestively, but Harry tried to ignore it.

"Both."

"I'd think you'd know the answer to the first one," Harry said, a bit more smugly than he intended to. "As for the second one, I'd like you to cease the disturbance you're causing by drawing attention to me."

Harry thought he was handling this quite well. They hadn't resorted to insults. Yet. Not really. It took him a moment to register the fact that Malfoy had started laughing.

Harry looked back at the blonde. Gods, he was nothing like the squeaky teenager he had last seen, five years ago. His head lolled back a little, as the laughter made his lips show perfectly white teeth. His canines were quite prominent, Harry noticed, oddly enough.

"Quit it, Malfoy. You're as annoying as ever."

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy stopped laughing, only to make eye contact again. A smug smile did not leave his face though.

"Potter, you really are too easy. Did you actually believe I would listen?"

"Considering the fact that it has been five years and you've had the time to grow up? Yes."

Malfoy's eyes flashed at him for a moment, though Harry could not pinpoint whether with anger or amusement.

"Dream on," his low voice drawled again.

_Seriously,_ Harry thought. _Shouldn't he save that tone for the bedroom?_

And immediately felt his cheeks turn scarlet at the realisation he'd just thought that.

"Look, Potter, let me make this crystal-clear, in case your Gryffindor brain cannot see what is very easily detected. I dislike your presence here, though I know it is for very good reasons. Rest assured that I will make it my goal in life to annoy you whenever and wherever I can as long as you reside here. Apart from that, of course, I willingly present you with my cooperation, should you require it."

Harry stared. It was the only thing he could do. Five years. Five fucking years and Malfoy was still as obnoxious and in-your-face as he had ever been. In fact, he was even worse, because combined with the familiar characteristics, Harry noticed that he meant the last thing he said.

And worst of all was that he probably _would_ need to work together with Malfoy.

Without another word, he got up from his seat, throwing Malfoy a disgusted look and turned around. The blonde's smug expression still visible before him, even when he closed his eyes that night.


	5. Dark Arts Class Time

Draco fanned himself. It was unbearably hot outside. To make his temper even worse, Potter had demanded to be present at Draco's duelling classes. So, there he was, outside in the blistering sun (which was no doubt scalding his skin as he spoke to the class), surrounded by overeager students who wanted to fuck up their spells and curses on each other, while he could feel Harry soddin' Potter's eyes bore into the back of his shirt.

This was definitely not his day.

"Right, Parkinson. You're up against Wiener, I mean, Weeny."

Several Slytherins sniggered at his purposeful slip of the tongue. Draco realised it was childish, but at the moment he didn't give a rat's arse. Bloody Gryffindors got under his skin, lately. But he'd be damned if he'd let anyone notice, apart from the occasional sting below the belt.

The two students got up and faced each other.

"Right," Draco said. "I want you two to practice some of the spells we last learned in class. The rest of you pays attention, because I want reactions once they are done. I'll be grading you on the quality of your feedback."

Draco avoided looking at Potter, just to make sure his mood would not get any worse than it already was.

_Serpensortia!_

Of course, Parkinson always used that one. The Gryffindor clearly anticipated this.

_Avada Kedavra!_

From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Potter tense up completely, but he did not interrupt the class, which must've taken all his self-control, considering how his body was shaking.

_Expelliarmus!_

_Petrificus Totalis!_

_Accio wand!_

Parkinson was too late to grab her wand, before Weeny's curse hit her. She collapsed on the ground like a statue.

_F… Finite Incantatem_, she groaned with effort.

_Wingardium Leviosa._

Weeny calmly lifted Parkinson's wand and took it. The duel was over.

"Well, that was a poor show, Parkinson."

Draco turned to the rest of the class, his notepad ready to checkmark everyone who gave a sensible answer.

"Who can give our two duellers some hints?"

Several hands shot up into the air.

"Bella should've reacted sooner to the Expelliarmus," said a Slytherin boy.

"Obviously," Draco replied, marking a half-assed answer. "And what would you suggest?"

Another hand shot up.

"I'd have tried wandless magic," a Gryffindor girl answered. "Maybe Relashio, or something."

"Very good," Draco said, somewhat reluctantly ticking off a good mark next to her name. "What else?"

"Was the Avada Kedavra curse really necessary," a little voice piped up. "I mean, Vipera Evanesca would have done the trick just as easily. And we _are_ talking about an Unforgivable here."

Draco nodded gravely. "That is true."

He turned on his heels, facing Weeny.

"Care to explain why you chose that spell of all spells, Mister Weeny?"

Weeny seemed uneasy, stepping from one foot to the other.

"I don't know, professor. It was just the first one to pop to mind. I couldn't help myself."

"And that for a Gryffindor," Draco mused. "I'll be keeping a close look on you, Weeny. No Unforgivable Curses out of the blue anymore. You understand, I'm sure."

It was not really a question, merely a statement.

"Yes, professor Malfoy."

"All right, the two of you sit down. Dabney and Ricci, you're next."

***

Harry had been appalled at the fact that Malfoy allowed his students to use the Unforgivable Curses. What if 'Mister Weeny' had aimed it at his opponent? He needed to have a word about this with the Dark Arts teacher as soon as his class was over.

It did surprise Harry that Malfoy made an issue of the curse, which had been used so gratuitously. Apparently he did try to sensitize his students, contrary to what Harry had expected.

He observed two more duels, before his attention started to wander. One minute later he regretted his inadvertence. As if apparating out of nowhere, a dragon emerged, rising over the group of students.

Before Harry realised it, the creature had lashed out at the children, hitting two of them with the horns on his head and taking a bite out of another. Malfoy drew out his wand, pointing it at the dragon.

Harry heard his voice above everything else.

_Petrificus Totalis!_

The dragon immediately stiffened, but before it could fall down, Harry himself reacted.

_Arresto Momentum!_

Instantly, the creature's movement slowed down, allowing Malfoy to move it away from his students.

"Potter," he heard that low voice call him. "Get the wounded students to the hospital wing. I've got my hands full, as you can see."

***

Madam Pomfrey didn't know what hit her, when Harry came in with three wounded children on his hand.

"What in Merlin's name is this," she exclaimed at the sight.

"Dragon," Harry said in a tense voice. "Don't ask. Help them first."

He needn't remind madam Pomfrey of that, as she was sensible enough to do so. She ushered Harry to put the wounded student he was levitating on one of the vacant beds, while the other two sat down.

"What kind of dragon", she asked, eyeing the bleeding wounds of the boy.

Harry cursed inwardly and tried to recollect the image of the dragon. Quite small, he murmured, only fourteen feet or something. Horns on the head, he thought, as he eyed the bruises on the other two students. Colour… Colour. Copper. Considering its temper…

"Peruvian Vipertooth," Harry said.

"Oh dear," she mumbled in response. "Poison. This lad won't be waking up very soon, once I'm done with him."

"As long as he wakes up, it's fine."

"Well, shouldn't you get back to wherever this creature is, then?"

Harry thought of Malfoy. He just nodded and dashed out of the hospital wing.


	6. Feels Like Detention

Draco felt sweat break out all over his body. The dragon was in a foul temper, much like its guardian. _Petrificus Totalis_ does not exactly shut down the mental capacities of the victim. Although, victim was hardly the word in this case.

"Malfoy!"

"Finally," he grunted through gritted teeth. "Kids all right?"

***

"They should be fine. Vipertooth, though, so that Gryffindor boy's not looking at a good night's rest."

"Neither are we if you don't move your ass and do something, Potter. This beast is resisting me with every chance he gets. How long do you expect me to hold him on my own?"

Harry pulled out his wand, ignoring Malfoy's temper and put a second spell on the dragon, causing its protests to falter.

"Where are the other students?"

"Sent them to the dormitories. Class eldest is warning the Headmistress."

"I'd better owl Ron," Harry said. "His brother will love to get his hands on this one."

"Not if the parents of those kids demand justice," Draco said coolly, displaying the same calculated cruelty he had a long time ago, with Buckbeak.

"Don't be an asshole, Malfoy. Or did you fail to notice it apparated out of nowhere?"

"If you ask me, you were the one failing to notice things, Potter. For an Auror, your reflexes sucked just now."

"Maybe I was too caught up contemplating the fact that you let your students perform the Unforgivable Curses."

"Gentlemen, if you please!"

Minerva appeared behind them, together with Hagrid and a young man Harry only recognised from the lists he had received from the Headmistress. His memory failed him to recover the man's name.

"My goodness," she eyed them both thoughtfully. "For a moment I was thrown back in time, what with the two of you bickering like twelve year olds."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but then decided on dignified silence, along with Malfoy.

"No comments, I see. Good," she continued. "Now what _do _we have here?"

***

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at McGonagall's question, but he couldn't help himself completely.

"A dragon."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I mean, what is it doing here?"

"Taking bites out of students."

Sometimes, his tongue really was too fast for his common sense. Then again, his mood had already been foul before this ordeal.

"Professor Draco Malfoy! This is bad enough without you adding to the nastiness."

Draco just lifted his hand in truce at her.

"It apparated out of nowhere," Harry saved his ass.

_Bloody goody-goody-two-shoes__ Gryffindor piece of…_

"Like the Dementors?"

"Yes," Draco replied. "We really have a problem."

"You don't say," Potter shot him a look.

"Don't you start, Potter."

Draco was annoyed to see the Auror grin. Stress clearly did not have a good effect on either of them.

Hagrid was given care over the beast. With a shudder, Draco allowed himself to relax and flexed his shoulders. Suddenly, a trail appeared in front of them. Draco had to blink a few times, but the reaction of the others ensured him he was not seeing things.

The trail lead back into Hogwarts. Exchanging worried looks, all of them followed it without saying a word.

Draco was appalled to see it go down into the dungeons and head straight for his office. His mood was officially as bad as a Bertie Bott bean with vomit taste, when his office opened as if his protection spells didn't even exist.

The look McGonagall and Harry exchanged was not lost on him.

***

_I knew it_, Harry thought inwardly, while mirroring Minerva's expression. _But okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves._

He looked over his shoulder at Malfoy. The look in those steel grey eyes revealed very little, but Harry thought that, had he been the culprit, he would have pulled out his wand already. Unless, of course, he would behave like a true Slytherin and lie his way out.

They walked inside the office.

Against the wall, a map seemed to vibrate with life. They stared at it and saw Hogwarts appear in its lower right corner. Slowly, a trail was formed, leading out of Hogwarts to unknown territory. It only travelled a few feet on the map before coming to a halt.

After a short period of silence, Minerva spoke up.

"Does anyone recognise the place it stopped?"

"Hardly. Just looks like some or other part of the forest. There's little specific about it."

The Headmistress looked at her professor of the Dark Arts.

"Do you have any idea, Mr. Malfoy, why it chose this room and your map? For which," she added with a glance at the map. "I congratulate you. It must have taken you some time to create it."

He looked at them pointedly.

"No, I do not. And neither do I intend to work my guts out to prove it to you."

Leaning casually against his desk, he eyed the map.

"It's Dark Arts, that's for sure."

Harry restrained himself from a sarcastic remark.

"I think we need to follow that trail", he said instead. "I bet you my position as Head Auror it will lead us to the problem."

Minerva nodded a bit hesitantly. Malfoy just looked at him with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

"I will need to discuss this with the Ministry, Harry, I cannot just send you off."

"Of course," Harry said. "They'll need to know, but I suggest we get together tonight. I would like to move out tomorrow morning."

He turned to face Malfoy.

"I'll need to take that map."

The blonde just kept his strange look on Harry.

"I guessed as much," he eventually said. "Do bring it back in one piece, Potter. I value it."

Harry was surprised to see him give in so easily and wondered what he was up to.

"I expect the two of you in my office tonight, by seven."

It felt as if they had just received detention.


	7. Golden Boy Always Takes The Lead

When Harry arrived at Minerva's office, he was surprised to see Malfoy there already. He clearly looked as comfortable as someone who had not just walked in.

"Harry, please sit down," pointed Minerva at a seat beside Malfoy.

He did as she asked, sitting opposite of Malfoy.

"I have spoken with Minister Kingsley and he agrees it is best you follow the trail. Chances are you will find the source of this evil and Hogwarts will be safe."

"Great!"

Harry thought it all sounded perfectly logical. Evil arrives, you find the source, track it down and capture it to be sentenced to Azkaban. Kingsley agreed to the most logical of action plans. Then why was the atmosphere in Minerva's office about the same as a funeral's?

The only one who looked remotely pleased was Malfoy, but for some reason Harry thought it hardly reassuring.

"However," Minerva added. "He thought it unwise to let you do so on your own."

She hesitated for a moment, shooting a glance at Malfoy.

"I'll get to the point. You're assigned to take Mr. Malfoy as your companion."

"As a pet, I'm sure," Harry said before he could bite his tongue.

"At least your retorts have become more pertinent over the years," Malfoy said coolly.

"Gentlemen, please," echoed Minerva her earlier plea. "I know you two share a difficult past and that a lot is still unsaid between you, but I implore you to stop your bickering and cooperate."

"Don't worry, Headmistress. I'm sure Potter and I are capable of leaving our past behind us."

Malfoy met Harry's eyes in a challenge. In reply, Harry broke eye contact and rubbed his temples with one hand, feeling a headache coming up.

"Let's just say we're professionals, Malfoy. We'll make it work, Minerva."

Now why did that sound like agony?

"I sincerely hope you do. Who or whatever we are dealing with is at the same time terribly reckless and careful. We can only guess why he or she acts this way. Both of you, be on your guard. You leave before dawn tomorrow."

***

They walked through the halls of Hogwarts together: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

Head Auror and Dark Arts teacher.

"Pack light," Harry advised. "We won't need that much anyway."

"I know how to travel, Potter."

"What does a Dark Arts teacher need to travel for? New spells?"

"For your information, I travelled a lot with my parents when I was young. And secondly, you honestly think that a teacher's position at Hogwarts is all I aspire in life?"

They walked in unison, keeping abreast of each other, their footsteps echoing through the halls. Draco's dark robes stood out against Harry's brighter ones.

"Indulge me, Malfoy."

"I run some businesses here and there."

Harry stopped abruptly, forcing Draco to do the same by grabbing his upper arm. The silver-haired man locked eyes with the Golden Boy.

"What kind of business?"

"Nothing relevant."

They stood in silence, Harry clearly not satisfied with the answer, but Draco not intent on giving him anything more.

"But I _know_ how to pack," the blonde smirked arrogantly.

He dislodged himself from Harry's grip with a smooth move. They had come to a halt just a few steps from Draco's office. Draco looked at Harry sideways, a gloved hand on the doorknob.

"Trust me."

He vanished inside. Harry gaped at the entrance to Draco's office. Then shook his head in disgust and went for his own rooms, muttering something about cheeky little bastards who never change.

***

The next morning felt a bit too much like the morning after, where you ask yourself whether the situation you got yourself into is real, silently hoping it is not. Reality hit Harry like a brick wall, when he found himself on his broom, next to Malfoy, about to embark on a journey of which he did not know where or when it would end.

"Brilliant," he muttered. "Just brilliant."

Malfoy looked as radiant as ever, basking in the light of the rising sun.

"Same here, Potter," he said, squinting at Harry. "But any holiday is a good holiday."

Harry refrained from pointing out the obvious flaw in that remark. He was sure Malfoy was just taunting him, like he would undoubtedly try throughout the whole chase. Instead, he pushed off the grass and hovered above Malfoy.

"Let's go."

"Who says you're taking the lead, Potter?"

A touch of annoyance could be heard in the other man's voice. Harry felt a gust of wind, when Draco rushed past him, skyrocketing himself into the air. Now, _this_ was an interesting challenge. It had been months since Harry had flown a broom for any reasons other than professional ones. Quidditch had become a distant and faint memory.

He sped after Malfoy, a stubborn expression on his face. They both knew the way. No harm in chasing each other while getting there. The wind chased the song from Harry's head. Temporarily.

***

The moment Draco awoke he realised something had gone terribly wrong. Not knowing where he was or who was nearby, the Slytherin kept silent. Holding his breath even, he tested his limbs and head for injuries.

_Good. Just a few scratches and bruises._

Next, he scanned the surroundings for visitors. In his mind, he performed one spell after the other.

_Protego. _First things first, after all.

_Fateor venefilamia._ No wizards or witches hidden within the vicinity.

_Homenum revelio._ No humans either.

_Reperio_ Harry. No such luck.

_Episkey._

At least he was still outside in the forest and not chained in some dungeon. Draco was quite accustomed to dungeons, but under certain circumstances only.

_Accio_ broom. No broom.

_Accio_ rucksack. Good, that one was still around.

But of course, Harry had the map. Typical. Golden Boy was so used to taking the lead that he never once considered asking Draco to carry his own possession. Draco sat down on a rock, after wiping it clean with a wave of his wand, and munched on a piece of bread, while trying to reconstruct what had happened.


	8. Resist The Fairies

"You'll have to do better than that, Malfoy!"

Harry sped past Draco, much too close for comfort and almost caused the blonde to lose grip of his broom.

"Mental case, Potter. Your aim isn't as good as it used to be. Out of practice?"

"You didn't fall, did you? My aim was perfect."

Gryffindor pride, Draco thought.

"You wish."

Draco caught up with Harry effortlessly and bumped shoulders with him. The wind hit them both in the face hard. Their robes smacked into one another because of the close contact.

"Just like old time Quidditch, huh?"

Harry broke contact for a second and smashed back against Draco.

"Decided to pull some Slytherin tricks, Potter? Not a good plan."

Draco suddenly ducked, making Harry loose his grip and tumble to the left for a split second, where the blonde had just been acting as counterweight. The raven-haired man recovered quickly, keeping an eye on his opponent, who was twirling through the air above him, performing a screwdriver.

"Bloody showoff," Harry muttered.

Next thing he knew, Draco was doing a freefall straight downwards, aiming for Harry. The Gryffindor had time to wish for a snitch to be the victim instead of him, before pulling sharply to the right and avoiding Draco's attack.

"We _are_ supposed to survive this!"

Draco laughed and even at this distance, Harry noticed his prominent canines again. Disturbed, he slowed down a bit, but Draco's taunts soon made him forget what he was about to contemplate. Instead, he sped up, performing a screwdriver around Draco.

"Showoff."

Now it was Harry's turn to laugh.

"What?"

Draco sounded cross. Probably because he had not expected Harry to deem the insult funny. They both slowed down this time.

"Nothing," Harry sniggered. "Except that I thought the exact same thing about you when you did your screwdriver."

Draco resorted to dignified silence. His gaze stretched towards the horizon, going slightly vacant. It had been quite a while since the Malfoy heir had been away from work or home. Although this was a form of work, he was glad to see the horizon in the distance and the world beneath him. Even if it meant putting up with Harry Potter.

"Care for a bite?"

Draco glanced sideways and saw a sandwich being handed to him in a Gryffindor red glove. For a split second he hesitated, though he was not sure why.

"Sure."

They flew on in silence, until Harry burped.

"Charming as ever," Draco said dryly.

"Get over it," the other grinned. "It's only air."

Draco raised an aristocratic eyebrow. In reply, Harry offered him a flask of pumpkinjuice. Again, the blonde accepted, knowing perfectly well that his own rucksack carried more than enough food.

They were nearly there. Harry had made some calculations as to how long it would take them to arrive to the particular spot in the forest. Within ten minutes they were supposed to get there.

Before Draco could actually take the flask from Harry's hand, some incredible force smashed them apart. It was instant darkness.

***

It did not take a genius to figure out that whoever they were chasing had blown them out of the sky. Yet, it was highly unusual for a wizard of Draco's talent and strength to blackout that fast. Same goes for Potter, Draco reluctantly admitted.

He cracked his neck in annoyance. Worst of all, now he had to _walk_ to find the tousled-haired git back. Chances were the Ministry might try to send Draco off to Azkaban if he returned without their precious Harry Potter. Regardless of veritaserum results.

He glanced around into the dark green woods, wondering which way to go.

_Point me._

Okay, their destination had been to the northwest. Best to keep going that way. Draco would simply need to rely on his good fortune to get out of this mess.

Usually, it did not fail him.

He threw a wary eye at the forest around him. It did not look anything like he expected it to. In fact, he thought darkly, it looked too enchanted to his liking. Oddly enough, Draco was unable to identify it as either Dark or Light Magic.

A crease between his fair brows, he carefully laid a protected hand against one of the trees he passed. It vibrated beneath his skin. Retracting his hand, Draco suppressed a shiver.

These were not Hogwarts trees.

With renewed interest, the platinum-haired head swayed from side to side. Well aware of his vulnerability in unknown territory, Draco's body went into defence-mode, crouching low over the overgrowth and under the tree branches.

_Only a Gryffindor is capable of venturing out on a simple mission to capture one measly Dark Wizard and end up in an unknown forest, surrounded by unknown magic, dragging an unwilling Slytherin along._

Not entirely unwilling, but that was _entirely_ besides the bloody point.

Point A: find Potter ASAP. Point B: get back to Hogwarts even more ASAP. Could he risk a Patronus? Accidental contact with another tree told Draco no. The surroundings were hostile. He could sense it in the air and casting a Patronus might just cause his premature death. Sneaking through the forest as quietly as he could, Draco thought of one final possibility to find Potter.

A giggle broke through his thoughts. Draco instantly froze, checking his surroundings. Giggles meant femininity. He could take on women any time, he thought. (Carefully ignoring the existence of women like Granger.)

"My, my, cocky, aren't we?"

A voice like silver bells seemed to bounce off the trees and vibrate in his head. Draco suppressed a moan. As he closed his eyes for a split second, trying Occlumency to keep the voice out of his head he discovered two things.

In that split second, he felt a satin-like fabric caress the back of his neck. At the same time, he realised that Occlumency did not work. Again, the giggle rang through his head.

"Useless against me."

"May I inquire as to who I am dealing with?"

Draco decided to have a dialogue with the creature, unconsciously showing the good manners his parents had forced upon the pureblood heir.

"Oh, what good manners."

As if he had lured the creature out, a little girl fell from a tree right next to Draco. It took all his willpower not to recoil in horror at the sight of her bright body.

"I am surprised that one of your kind knows how to speak to me."

Entirely unintentional, Draco thought crossly, eyeing the newcomer. He understood now why he could not recognise the magic. It was no witch or wizard opposite of him.

Correction, _circling_ him.

With a slight feeling of unease, he traced her every move. This was a fairy, not a little girl. Her curves proved that much.

Which left him with quite a good guess as to where he was.

"Politeness and fairy laws oblige me to answer your question, handsome stranger. I am Rhoswen. Who are you?"

"Draco Malfoy," he kindly replied.

What did he know about fairies? Frantically, he dug in his memory for information. Politeness was a definite start. He could piss her off in no time, but that was not the best of ideas.

_Chances are she will try to trick me… Or lure me astray. Good thing I do not…_

"Draco… Malfoy…"

She pronounced his name as if she was mulling over its meaning and tasting his essence in her mouth. It was a disturbing feeling.

"Did you read my thoughts just now, Rhoswen?"

She giggled, still circling him, her eyes taking in what Draco felt she considered her prey.

"Not at all, Draco Malfoy. I do not read thoughts. All I sensed was a great deal of arrogance in you."

Rhoswen came to a halt at Draco's left.

"As if a fairy could not harm you," she said sweetly, tilting her head to the side.

Her long glossy hair fell forward in lush curls. Draco, in turn, cocked his head to the right, searching her face for any sign of anger or malice.

"Rhoswen… I know fairies can be harmful," he said calmly.

"Yet you show no fear, Draco Malfoy. Why is that?"

Because I'm not the only one with make-belief spells at his disposal, he thought.

"Because, Rhoswen, I do not intend to harm you."

Well, that was a definite lie. He'd blast her right into the arms of a Dementor if he could.

"Lies are easy to detect, Draco Malfoy."

What was it with his name? Repetitiveness… Draco felt his mind slow down. Copycat.

"Rhoswen, I need to find a … companion. He and I were travelling together, when we were hit by some force and ended up here."

"That is true," she said, closing in on him. "But you cannot find him, Draco Malfoy. I am here now. My sisters will take care of your companion."

Sisters?

"Your sisters need not be troubled with him, Rhoswen, because that is my task. To be perfectly honest, the git probably does not even know we are somewhere completely different from where we should be. He is the clueless type."

Draco heard himself ramble. The name… A cool hand slid into his, her thumb rubbing the back of his hand.

"Come along, Draco Malfoy. We will go find your companion together. I am sure he will like me and my sisters' company."

Draco took a few steps back, hoping to lose sight of her. Rhoswen was beginning to fill his entire view, the brightness of her body overflowing him like waves. A vibrating tree obstructed his escape.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure he's a poof, Rhoswen. He would not know what to do with a woman if she drew him a picture."

"Oh my, you and your companion do not get along that well, do you, Draco Malfoy?"

"Not really. Well, it's an ongoing thing, really and considering our age it ought to be in the past, but you know. Boys will be boys." Within a second he remembered. "Rhoswen. Let me pass. I cannot see."

"There is only forest to see, Draco Malfoy. But if you really want your companion back…"

Her eyes were of the darkest green Draco had ever encountered. They seemed to remind him of someone else. Someone he knew was slipping away because of Rhoswen.

_Protego Totalum!_

The grip on his mind seemed to weaken.

"Draco… Draco…"

Her voice sounded like the rustling of leaves and Draco felt so tired. It would be bliss to give in to her.

"Rhoswen, back away. I need to find Harry Potter."


	9. Saving The Savior Of The Wizarding World

Instantly, Rhoswen stepped away from him. Draco stood there, gasping for air. To his surprise, the fairy was actually pouting.

"Now why did you have to go and remember his name?"

"Because they'll kill me if I forget, Rhoswen," Draco replied more calmly than he felt.

"They? Who are they?"

"Please stop dragging information out of me, Rhoswen."

"But I need you…"

"Third time, Rhoswen. You forgot my name."

_By Merlin's Beard, this was too close._

Draco had not been sure whether it would work but he _was_ sure it was his innate luck that allowed him to survive the tale. The moment Rhoswen understood what had happened she vanished from sight, becoming one with the trees, a loud wail ringing in Draco's ears. Panting, he turned on his heels and headed deeper into the forest, hoping she would not send her sisters after him.

Fairies were bitches. Let no one try to tell you otherwise.

"And now to find that halfblood Potter. I bet they already sucked him into a tree…"

The mental image that provided him with was enough to make Draco snicker, gaining his cool with every step. Okay, this was a wood that had its own will and would probably suck him into the ground if it got the chance, but he was a Malfoy. And Malfoys do not kill easily.

_Point Me Potter._

Draco was quite proud of the variation to the compass spell he had come up with. So far, it was not infallible, because he had an inkling it would refuse to work for everyone. More particularly halfbloods and mudbloods might have issues with it, but he was sure he could remedy that eventually. If he chose to.

With his ears cocked, he ventured deeper in the woods, feeling as if he were walking straight into a gigantic carnivorous mouth. Silvery eyes darted from left to right, hoping to pick up a familiar silhouette against the dark green of the forest. He found such silhouette at a small lake, bending over, staring at something in the water. Deciding not to give Potter a head's up, Draco started to sneak closer very quietly until he was close enough to shove the Golden Boy in the seemingly warm water.

"Looking to fish yourself some lunch, Potter?"

To Draco's inner dismay, Harry did not even blink at what the silver-haired young man had hoped to be a surprise to cause someone a stroke.

"Hardly," the other replied and turned around to face his companion. "Good to see you are alive."

"You look even messier than usual," Draco ignored the kind welcome.

"There is something down there," Harry ignored Draco in return.

Harry was too busy with the object in the water to really consider Draco's actions and the motives behind them. Next to him, the other rolled his eyes, but looked into the clear water nonetheless, following Harry's gloved finger.

"I see," Draco said. "And…?"

"Malfoy, we may be in some odd forest, but I know a magic object when I see one. Don't you think we ought to go down there and retrieve it?"

"Then why aren't you diving in yet, Golden Boy?"

Harry eyed his companion over the rim of his glasses, which unsettled Draco somewhat. Frowning, the blonde bent through his knees and, taking off his glove, dipped a finger into the water. It was slightly hotter than a man's body temperature.

"It might be wisest to leave it be," he said finally, coming back up. "Like you say, we are in an enchanted forest…"

"This sounds too much like _Sleeping Beauty_," Harry muttered.

"Do not interrupt with Mugglejunk," Draco sneered. "It might be best not to jump into water while stuck in an as you call it 'odd' forest."

Harry glared at the other, but let the insult slip. Instead he said: "I'm surprised you recognise 'Mugglejunk'."

Before Draco could react, he pulled his jacket off. "I don't care what you think, but I'm going in there. Seeing we haven't had any vicious visits yet, I doubt our opponent did this."

Draco made a noncommittal sound. "I am not sure about the latter, but I am pretty sure there are some vicious creatures around, since I just escaped from one."

Stopping in midmovement of pulling off his sweater, Harry peeked at Draco through the V-neck of his pullover.

"Excuse me?"

Draco could not help but smile conceitedly.

"You heard me, Potter. In this magical forest, we are honoured with the delightful presence of fairies."

Removing his sweater completely, a decision that was not lost on Draco, Harry returned Draco's smug grin.

"Killer fairies, I'm sure," he joked.

"I'm surprised you are still alive, to be honest."

Sitting down on a rock to take off his boots and pants, Harry looked up at Draco through messy hair. His green eyes turned solemn.

"You're not joking."

"Do I ever make jokes around you? You don't have the brains to appreciate my sense of humour."

"You're right there," Harry nodded, tossing his pants onto the heap of clothes. "I usually do not take too well to myopic, trite humour, at the expense of others."

"You're killing me, Potter."

Harry snorted, then stood up, clad in only his boxers and saluted Draco mockingly. "I'll see you in a few seconds."

"Don't expect me to come after you, in case something slippery grabs you."

"Oh dear, I would owe you my life then, wouldn't I? Sounds awfully familiar," Harry said sarcastically, his back turned to Draco, who did not reply and simply watched the Gryffindor hero wade into the water. Draco had a bad feeling about this, but he'd be damned if he would let it show.

Walking closer to the shore of the lake, he flapped his cloak a few times so as to drape it over a rock, before sitting down on it. His eyes rested intently on Harry's form, while he slowly but steadily was swallowed by the bright blue liquid. When Harry was in to his waist, his patience gave out and he dove under.

"Typical," Draco muttered.

Watching Harry's blurry form adapt its movements to the liquid environment, Draco thought to himself that air was definitely more the Gryffindor's element than water.

Personally, he preferred fire. The sudden snaps and cracks of a warm fire could keep him mesmerised for hours on end. It gave opportunities to think about one's life, to mull over current issues, past experiences and future possibilities. More than once it had given him a sort of _Aha!-Erlebnis_, although circumstances had not always permitted him to act out his plans.

At this very moment, however, his plans to calmly sit and watch Harry do some ridiculous work were thwarted because there was something terribly amiss. His view on Harry's bluish swimming silhouette was disturbed, because… well, simply because he could not see him anymore. The water had turned from crystal-clear into something dark and murky.

Cursing colourfully, Draco threw off his cloak and kicked off his boots.


	10. Warmth, Precious Warmth

Stripping himself from his shirt, Draco decided the pants would take too much effort (what with all the laces). Running into the water, his skin screamed in protest. The water had turned ice-cold! Preventing his brain from taking the easy way out and force his body back to shore, he dove in head first.

How in Merlin's Universe was he supposed to find Potter?

_Lumos._

At that moment, Draco was eternally grateful for the opportunities he had received to learn wandless magic. The bright flash of light allowed him to glance upwards and have a vague idea of how deep he was. Unsure whether the flashes he saw in front of his eyes were due to his spell or due to the freezing cold, Draco swam deeper, hoping to grab hold of one or other messy-haired moronic amoeba.

Groping into the dark water, Draco caught hold of something, while he was expecting not to. Harry Potter would just keep on surviving his own stupidity, wouldn't he? The ice water was gnawing at his well-trained body like ants at an abandoned pumpkin pastry.

_Lumos._

Squeezing his eyes shut, Draco tried to focus, but all he saw were lights against his eyelids and the vague outline of Harry's foetal-like form. Luck. With a strength he knew he possessed Draco Malfoy caught hold of Harry Potter's body, fingers numb against numb skin and swam his way to the surface, wondering what in the universe got into him to save the man's life.

Coughing and wheezing like a feline about to throw up a hairball, Draco dragged Harry out of the water. Blinking rapidly, he tried to force his eyes to maintain some sort of focal point on the world.

"I swear, Potter, if this causes any brain damage you will live to regret this."

The body under his fingers, however, chose to ignore him. Draco shook his head, noticing that the temperature of the water was so low that tiny icicles had formed at the tips of his hairs. He raised his hands and saw bluish-purple skin.

"Fuck."

His eyes finally managed to focus on the surroundings and found an equally blue Harry, lying too still next to Draco's legs.

"Fuckfuck."

Shivering like a maniac, Draco put his knuckles against his head. "Think, Malfoy."

_Incendio!_

The state of his body put even more power behind the spell and a massive fire immediately roared next to the two frozen young men.

_Accio clothes._

Draco wandlessly manoeuvred Harry's body onto the Gryffindor-red cloak. His own cloak felt too heavy and painful on his skin and he assumed it would not be any more comfortable for Potter, but they had no choice. Wrapping the two cloaks around them tightly, Draco suppressed a shudder at the contemplation of the moment.

He was bughugged in two cloaks with Harry soddin' Potter, for whom he had just risked his life. Annoyed the platinum blonde made a pillow with the rest of the clothes behind them and created fires all around.

He could only hope Rhoswen would not return with her sisters.

***

_I want to hold you but my senses tell me to stop. I want to kiss you but I want it too much._

The song was back.

Harry awoke in a warm nest. His head hurt like hell and he could vaguely remember a dream about drowning in ice-cold water. Yet, his surroundings were comfortably soft and relaxing. It had all been a bad dream. He was not on some trip with Malfoy. He had not nearly drowned. Hogwarts was safe. He was still on holiday with Ron. Sighing contently, Harry stretched, curling his toes.

The blanket was a bit too tight. He had been dreaming badly, as always. Hopefully he had not woken Ron this time. Suddenly, Harry frowned. His head really did hurt. Had they been drinking? He could not remember drinking any Firewhiskey, but his head felt as if he had downed four bottles in a row in a not too distant past.

Groaning, he rolled over a bit, trying to disentangle himself from his sheets. He bumped into something that had about the same temperature as him.

Why was Ron in bed with him?

Panicked, Harry opened his eyes and found himself with his nose against a naked back. He resisted the urge to squeak and raked his memory for anything … unconventional that could have taken place the night before. Thinking made lights appear in front of his eyes. Harry cursed softly, closing his eyes again.

"Potter, stop making bodily contact or I will hurt you even more for making me sit through this."


	11. Frozen

Short intermezzo, before we continue with the story…

Thank you, **ankhbearer3**, for pointing out that 'Poison' is an Alice Cooper original. ^^ Hereby I give credit to the authentic creator.

Also, _**thank you to all of you who have reviewed this story so far**_. It is hugely appreciated, because it helps to keep me going!

Further support and/or questions are of course welcome!

Love,

~ Anvan

*******

Had Harry not been wrapped up in sheets (correction, cloaks, he now noticed) he would have jumped like a scared rabbit frightened by a fox.

"Malfoy?"

He scolded himself when he heard his voice crack.

"Who else?" the other drawled.

Harry felt the warm body next to him turn and shift, until pale silver eyes locked stoically with bright green ones, which tried to look as innocent as possible. Draco was unreadable and seemed as comfortable as always, regardless of the circumstances. Harry scooted backwards a bit.

"What happened," he asked dumbly.

"You tried playing the hero again," Draco replied in a tone as cold as the water they had been in.

Harry blinked a few times. "Seriously, Malfoy, I can't remember anything. What happened? For a minute, I thought I was still on holiday with Ron."

Draco frowned lightly. "I smell a thousand times better than the redhead, Potter, don't insult me. Although I'll gladly admit I would not mind if you were still on holiday with that git. It would mean I was free of your presence."

"Spare me the hostilities, will you? I'm well aware of the fact that you hate me. Would you answer the damn question already? I hate it when people don't answer my questions."

Draco looked cross for a moment, but decided on constructivism.

"You dove in the lake to get some or other precious magical item, the water did something freaky and I jumped after you. Though I do not know where my common sense went at that very moment. The logical thing would have been to let you drown."

Harry smiled wryly. "Sounds like me."

The raven-haired young man missed the look of surprise on Draco's face at this unexpected sign of self-knowledge. Looking even more cross, the blonde decided he had had quite enough of the body contact with Harry and shoved the cloaks away. He smirked cruelly when he received a panicky squeak from Harry.

"Don't do this," Harry scrambled for his cloak, pulling it back up until it reached his nose.

He glared evilly at Draco, but the effect was quite lost since he was not wearing his glasses and did not exactly know where to look.

"Don't you get all moasty toasty on me, Potter."

Shrugging off the cold, Draco stretched, and then started gathering his clothes from between the bundle of cloaks, clothes and Harry.

"I hate coziness," the blonde muttered under his breath.

"Even _you_ have to like something, Malfoy," Harry mumbled from under his cloak.

"I like my opponents worthy, my toast burnt on one side and my hair clean and decent. Now move your ass. You're sitting on my pants."

"Morning temper."

"Morning breath."

"Too much information," Harry grinned.

"Shut the hell up, Potter. You are not helping!"

With a shove, Draco pulled his pants from under Harry, who rolled over laughing with cloak and all. The blonde looked down at the bundle of joy with a mixture of horror and disgust on his face.

"Have you gone mental?"

Sniggering, the dark head sat back up and looked at his companion.

"You're really unfit for casual conversation, you know that?"

"You're unfit for anything that has to do with me, Potter. Yet here I am."

Harry actually rolled his eyes, unwillingly provoking Draco.

"As if we are in such big trouble. We just slept through an icewater provoked sleep and we're still alive, aren't we?"

"Potter, are you really that dense?"

Harry scowled.

"Has your Gryffindor brain melted completely since you left school?"

Draco actually looked pissed off, which was an interesting alteration contrasted with his usual calm demeanour. Apparently the situation did get to him.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you, Golden Boy? Some or other Evil Force pops up and off goes Harry sodding Potter to save the day. Has it ever occurred to you, Potter, when you stormed out of Hogwarts to defeat whichever dark force we're dealing with, that that was exactly what it wanted from you?"

Draco's steely eyes locked onto Harry's green ones. Harry swallowed hard.

"What do you mean, Malfoy?"

"It _has_ melted," the Slytherin said in exasperation. "I mean that something is luring you out, Potter."

Still Harry didn't react.

"To kill you?"

"That's ridiculous!"

"Honestly, I'm beginning to wonder whether Voldemort's talk of you being lucky more than anything else wasn't true. Do you truly believe that those pranks at Hogwarts weren't anything more than a bored Dark Wizard? You never once considered it might be a trap?"

"If it is, why do you only bring it up now, Malfoy? Why not mention it before we were in it up to our necks?"

"By all means, mistrust me. I only saved your life twice, since we ventured out on this damn adventure."

"Right back at you, only I was never too proud to actually appreciate what you did! And your mathematics stink, Malfoy, you only saved me once."

Harry was talking nonsense. He saw on the platinum-haired man's face that he knew it as well. The trouble was he didn't want to accept what Malfoy was saying.

"Is that so," he taunted. "When did I hear you thank me, Potter? And just for the record, if I had not gotten rid of that miserable fairy you would not be here to tell the tale. So I did save your ass twice."

Harry fell silent for a moment.

"Look, this is beside the point, okay?"

Malfoy glared at him. Harry watched how his mind was working frantically, until eventually his facial features softened a bit. For now, the matter would be dropped. Harry was impressed.

"Why do you think I insisted on joining you in the first place?"

"I didn't _know_ you insisted on it, Malfoy," Harry pointed out the obvious. "Why did you? Because you're in on the whole scheme?"

The other laughed coldly. "Potter, you are paranoid. I don't owe you anything. Not anymore. And if your excuse for a brain wasn't so occupied with _wanting_ to see me fail, you'd know I'm talking sense."

"Stop insulting my intelligence, Malfoy."

Harry tried to divert the subject away from Draco's words, but felt his mind reeling and going back to the reproach that had just been thrown in his face. Grabbing hold of the cloak, he pulled it closer around him. The cold had still not left his body, he noticed angrily.

He felt the silver eyes rest on him heavily. It seemed like the weight of the world. Yet, it was only Malfoy, right? The situation threw him five years into the past. He had been obliged to piece the puzzle together, together with Ron and Hermione. Back then he had even less pieces of the puzzle than he did now.

"I feel another migraine coming up," he moaned more to himself than to Draco.

"Is that a Muggle illness or something?"

"No, it's something people get from a smack in the head or too much stress or too much thinking…"

"Indeed, that cannot be a Muggle illness. They hardly think at all, if you ask me."

"Do you get even more bitchy when you're supercooled?"

Harry could not believe he had actually used the word 'bitchy' on Draco Malfoy. The blonde eyed him a bit disparaged.

"Do _you_ get even more incoherent when you're supercooled?"

The black-haired man just waved his hand dismissively in reply and they sat in silence for a while. Draco was getting visibly more annoyed with every second wasted.

"Look, Potter…"

"I'm not really getting any warmer, Malfoy, are you?"

"If that's a way to get your body against mine again, it won't work."

"Just answer the bloody question."

Draco's jaw set itself stubbornly. "No."

It confirmed Harry's suspicion, but he decided not to say anything yet. Perhaps he was mistaken and he refused to look the fool in front of Draco. Instead he decided on something productive.

"Then we better get a move on again."

"Steal my line, why don't you."

The rest of the day an inexplicably cheeky Harry had the company of a very bad tempered Draco. Their conversations were limited to short and quick decisions as to which way to follow. Only one thing kept bothering the Gryffindor: the cold feeling would not cease.


	12. Silent Wonder

Happy Yule and Merry Christmas, everyone! I do hope you enjoy a beautiful time, be it with friends, family or alone under a warm blanket in the couch.

Warmest wishes,

~ Anvan

********

"M… Mer… Merlin be damned, Potter. W… What have you got… gotten me into this time?"

"F… For the record, Ma… lfoy. I never got y… y… you into anything. You v… volunteered."

They were sitting back to back, wrapped in cloaks and surrounded by magical fires, more miserable than ever. They had been following the trail for the last three days, but at a very slow pace. Due to Draco's temper, they had hardly talked.

Until last night when the blonde had collapsed without a sound, right in front of Harry. The raven-haired man had no clue anything had been wrong with his companion. He had, however, felt something was very wrong the moment his hands had touched Draco's skin.

Although Harry had been cold for the last three days, he had thought himself to be getting sick. The second his hands had felt Draco's temperature, he'd realised it was something far more serious. Right now, he was trying to discuss it with a pissed off serpent.

"W… We're enchanted. Th… The… The water did something."

"No… k… kidd… ding."

"Look… Let's j… just try to g… get some sleep."

"Like th… this?"

Draco's voice broke, but Harry could not make out whether it was due to the cold or due to the mere thought of having to sleep next to each other again. He, in turn, tried to focus on the situation at hand.

"Just sh… shut up and sleep. I th… think we'll kn… know more in the morning."

Draco did not even bother to reply anymore. Harry felt the other relax against his back within minutes and understood that the blonde must be exhausted. His pride kept him from complaining, but his body seized the opportunity to recover.

Shifting carefully, Harry tried to get more comfortable. It eventually lead him to rearranging a sleeping Draco and finding a cosy nest within the cloaks.

A tired mind is a dangerous thing.

Without realising it until it was too late, Harry found himself studying the face of his companion. His arch nemesis? What had Draco become? Despite all the harsh words which regularly fell between them, Harry could – in all fairness – no longer define the platinum blonde as his arch nemesis nor even as an enemy.

Whatever he _had_ become, however, was a lot less univocal. It did not help that Harry's dreams had become more intense.

Under the flickering light of the fire, Draco's face became warmer than it usually looked. His features were relaxed in sleep. Harry seemed to find a certain softer side, hidden beneath the Slytherin mask.

Harry felt the urge to touch the pale, now fire-coloured skin. As if sensing something was off, the sleeping man twisted and turned himself ever so slightly away from Harry. The movement made Harry's attention shift from Draco's skin to his smooth blonde hair, which now fell forward like a soft curtain across the other's forehead.

Curiosity killed the cat.

_I wanna kiss you bu__t your lips are venomous poison. Black lace on sweat…_

With heavy eyelids, Harry leaned closer to Draco, impervious to doubt or fear. Shifting his arm, so that it embraced Draco's head, he very carefully and consciously … moved his hand to the blonde's face … and softly dug his fingertips into the platinum hair.

The response this gesture got came as a surprise to Harry.

Draco's lips parted slightly and a deep sigh escaped him slowly, his chest rising with the intake of air and falling deeply as the warm breath left his lungs. Frowning at this reaction, Harry wondered about the Malfoy heir's life.

He had never heard of Draco having a partner, although he got enough attention from women, what with his aristocratic good looks. Harry didn't doubt that Draco could actually behave like a gentleman if he wanted to. Yet, after the war nobody had really bothered to check how the youngest Malfoy was doing.

Because of his actions… Or perhaps his family's actions, Harry thought compassionately, the Malfoy heir had been shunned. Harry would be the first to acknowledge that much. He himself had not exactly thought twice about catching every last one of the Death Eaters and bringing them to justice.

Draco Malfoy had been an exception however. Perhaps because he had tried to spare them at Malfoy Manor when Greyback and the others were trying to make sure Harry had indeed been Harry underneath Hermione's Stinging Hex. Or perhaps because of the 'way out' Narcissa had granted all of the Wizarding World by lying to Voldemort to get to her only son.

In any case, the ministry let Draco off the hook, but not before they had made sure that the Malfoy Estate was cleaned up.

Harry had not been granted the pleasure of seeing Draco vanish from his life, which was all he had wanted at that time. Both at the ministry and at Hogwarts, the name of the Malfoys kept echoing. If anything, its importance and standing kept increasing over the years that followed. Draco Malfoy was rising to power.

Admittedly, to perform such a feat after the debacle with Voldemort was impressive, yet it had not exactly pleased Harry. It took the trio and Kingsley several years to rid the ministry of Dark Wizards and Witches' influences, and still they needed to strengthen their defences. The fact that a man with a past like Draco Malfoy's was still able to re-enter into the Wizarding World was not reassuring.

Yet at this moment other thoughts swirled through Harry's brain.

_I wanna kiss you bu__t your lips are venomous poison._

He also wondered whether leaving an 18 year old with a father in Azkaban and a depressed mother was a truly merciful thing to do.

Whether leaving an undoubtedly traumatised wizard on his own, to find his path in life, after having chosen or being forced to chose the darker side of it, was a wise decision.

Whether leaving a man, barely of age, in charge of his ill mother with the weight of their past on his shoulders was a kind gesture at all.

Whether anyone at all had ever considered that at that point in his life, Draco Malfoy could have needed someone to guide him.

Harry frowned angrily. It was difficult to wipe a feud-of-seven-years off of the table, especially since it had cost him that much. The lives of Sirius, Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, Dobby, Fred and mostly his parents weighed heavily in the scales. Everyone who had died because some wizards and witches insisted on bringing Voldemort back.

Draco perhaps had never understood until it was too late. In fact, Harry was now sure that had been the case. Yet, was it an excuse?

He stared at the handsome face, lying in the curve of his arm. Somewhere along Harry's ponderings, Draco had moved closer, in search of warmth. His mind went into overdrive.

Had anyone shared the sheets with this man over the last few years? Had anyone kissed him awake? Had women …

Harry instantly blushed and threw his train of thought into reverse.

_I'd better stop thinking about Malfoy's sexual adventures, before I have to start thinking about myself. _

_Sleep. Cannot go wrong with sleep.__ Yes. Napnaptime._

"Oh my… What _have_ I gotten myself into," Harry echoed Draco's earlier words, without realising.

He sank lower, his left arm thankful for the weight being shifted and his body in general grateful for the warmth it received from his sleeping companion. Draco was very fast asleep, there was not doubt about that, when Harry closed the distance between them and tried to tell himself he was doing this for the sake of warmth only.

He fell asleep with the scent of Draco Malfoy in his nose and the feel of skin against skin.


	13. Perfection?

Happy Newyear to you all. May 2009 bring you all you didn't get in 2008. That and some common sense to live your life wisely.

All my love,

~ Anvan

*****

Harry awoke because of the cold. Since he was still wrapped in the cloaks, it must be Draco who had left. Remembering what he had done last night, Harry was overcome with shame. He really ought to stay focused.

"Dra … Malfoy?"

There was no answer. Annoyed, Harry got up, stubbornly holding onto the cloaks, while knowing they were of no use. He needed Draco with him as soon as possible.

"Malfoy!"

The sun was already high above him, indicating they – or at least Harry – had slept long.

"Malfoy, this is not funny. If you don't get your ass out here, we're going to freeze to death. I'm sure _your _excuse for a brain understands what's wrong by now!"

Harry hoped that, by taunting the other, he would re-appear.

"Don't insult me, Potter."

_Some things never change_, Harry thought dryly, but the relief he felt was immense. He turned to where to drawling voice had come from and watched a barely clothed Draco appear from the bushes.

"I've only been gone for three minutes or so," the blonde defended himself.

"Yeah, and I'm already the equivalent of a popsicle."

"A what?"

"Never mind," Harry shrugged. "Get over here."

"Dammit, don't order me around."

Harry eyed the other crossly, but noticed Draco looked paler than usual and had a slightly bluish colour around his lips. Instead of waiting for the Slytherin to cooperate, Harry closed the distance between them once again and stopped a few inches from the other. It cost him a great deal of effort to do so, sure that Draco saw through him and somehow knew about the night before.

"What have you been trying to do?"

Within seconds their temperature seemed to rise. Draco looked extremely crabby with the situation.

"I haven't been trying anything, Potter, except… "

Harry looked at the other from the corner of his eye, trying not to appear too eager to know what was going on with Draco. Yet, despite Harry's attempt at maintaining a low profile, the serpent could sense perfectly well something had changed and decided on aloofness instead.

"Fine, be that way," Harry shrugged. "I trust you understand the situation."

Draco locked icy eyes with Harry.

"I understand all too well that I'm more stuck on you than I could ever be. I can also assure that whoever got me into this lousy situation is in for a ride."

"Icequeen."

Harry realised that was the second time he referred to Draco, using a word that was overtly female. For some or other reason, however, Draco once again chose to ignore it, arrogance taking the lead in his facial expression.

"Have you ever heard of anything like this before," Harry changed the subject.

"Actually yes," Draco replied. "I've been experimenting with it myself. Nasty things to get rid of and quite lethal when done correctly."

Harry stared at the blonde.

"And just how 'correctly' is this one done, pray tell?"

"Not too well. I could have done a better job, while being a beginner."

The raven-haired man snorted loudly.

"Nasty indeed. So what do we do with it?"

They walked in unison, heading back for the heap of cloaks and clothes they had left behind.

"Ride it out," Draco said dryly. "There is little else we can do."

"Which means we're sleeping together for the rest of the trip…"

Harry had not meant to tease the other one, especially not considering the mood he was in, but it was the only means to mask his own shakiness.

"At least you've slept with one attractive person during your lifetime, Potter. A Malfoy no less."

"Somehow I doubt that is an impressive feat," Harry chuckled.

They arrived in their 'camp'. Both men gathered their clothes and dressed for travel again.

"Got the map?"

"Yes."

"Good. Give it back to me then."

Harry rolled his eyes, but handed Draco back his property.

"Speaking of sleeping partners, what's up with the Weaselette and you? Last thing _The Prophet_ mentioned sounded like trouble in paradise to me."

For the first time, Draco noticed that he touched upon a truly difficult subject, because Harry's eyes overshadowed with a mixture of annoyance and regret.

_So not even Potter's life is perfect._


	14. Of Gay Days And Nights

"I am not sure if we are in an 'on' or 'off' moment right now," came Harry's calm reply.

Something of his usual vigour had gone out of his voice. Draco frowned. Perhaps the cold had caused a few fuses to blow in the Slytherin's mind, but he found himself asking questions. Non-nasty questions. As if he cared.

"Why?"

Harry's scruffy head popped from under his cloak, his glasses askew on the bridge of his nose. For the second time, the bright green eyes looked at Draco over the rim of his glasses.

With a shrug, Harry seemed to want to steer clear of the subject. They grabbed their rucksacks, continuing the journey on foot. Draco's map showed a trail they had to follow, but nothing that gave bearings as to where they were. Even though it went against any kind of common sense, the two men decided to follow the trail. They were cut off from Hogwarts and the Wizarding World, without brooms or owls.

It was the first decision they made in agreement, trusting each other.

"It's as if we always return to each other against better judgement, as if we're not willing to admit that some things come to an end," Harry suddenly said, while pushing a low branch from his view.

Draco was taken by surprise a bit, not only because Harry actually replied. It took him a little while to come up with an answer as well.

"I guess those things can happen. People meet other people. You change. Your goals in life change."

It was his own experience with life that allowed him to say such things. Love as such was not his cup of tea. Shagging people senseless, however…

Harry let out an almost cynical snicker.

"The least you can say is that we changed, yes."

The dead branches under their feet snapped too loudly.

"Or perhaps I changed too much."

Draco wondered whether Harry was talking to himself or not. Suddenly, Harry turned his head and looked his companion in the face, a ponderous expression on his face.

"I actually don't think Ginny changed a lot."

"Too bad," Draco grinned. "She could do with a make-over."

"So could your personality sometimes."

"Only sometimes? I must have lost my touch."

Harry made a face at him. There was something strangely different. Draco felt he could still easily taunt the Gryffindor hero, but something had shifted and he could not pinpoint what. It irked him.

***

"How has your love life been, Malfoy?"

It had taken Harry all of the afternoon and most of the evening to master the courage to ask the question. Some of his protective charms had to be redone, because he'd gotten distracted. In the end, he figured if Draco could ask about Ginny and receive answers, he could expect the same.

Draco chuckled mockingly, a mug of warm made-by-Harry soup in his hands. The blonde seemed to enjoy it.

"Which love life would that be, Potter?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up at this simple reply and he was too baffled to prevent his reply from slipping out.

"Don't tell me the Slytherin Prince has been without a sex life!"

"May I remind you, my innocent companion, that there is a _huge_ difference between a love life and a sex life," Draco grinned crookedly. "Although I'm not sure whether you are experienced in either one."

The taunt made Harry blush, not because he remembered his times with Ginny, but because images from his dreams burned against the back of his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he tried to glare at Draco.

"I'm well aware of the difference and experienced enough as well."

"Ah, at least it wasn't sex that drove the two of you apart then."

"Sex was never the problem," Harry said, immediately regretting how that sounded. "How come you're changing the subject to me?"

Without his usual sneer, Draco stared at his soup intently. "Because failure is always more interesting than success. You of all people should know that."

Harry smirked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but last time I checked I don't think my team lost."

Silver eyes leered over the rim of the mug at Harry. It was somewhat unsettling, but Draco did not seem hostile. His thin pale eyebrows shot up a bit.

"You're really interested then?"

"Interested," Harry shrugged. "Curious perhaps. Or just wondering how life has been for you."

He frowned at his own openness, blowing at the soup to divert his attention from Draco's face.

"Bloody Gryffindors," Draco mumbled, undoubtedly sharing Harry's thoughts on the innate connection between Gryffindors and blatant honesty.

"My love life has been nonexistent, by my own choice. Nothing but trouble with lovers, wives and husbands. As for my sex life, that was plenty active. Sex partners have less demands and the demands they do have, I can easily fulfil."

He shot Harry an unambiguous grin, which made the raven-haired man's face turn a deeper shade of crimson. Draco sniggered in amusement.

"Does that satisfy your curiosity, Mr. Potter?"

Draco did not know why he was teasing Harry the way he was. It seemed to have an inkling of flirtatiousness to it, which was simply too wrong to contemplate. But the effect it had on Harry was too good to pass it up. He liked to see the Gryffindor blush.

Harry shivered inwardly at Draco's choice of words, as if they insinuated something totally different. _As if?_ Knowing Draco, they might as well, but Draco had no knowledge of Harry's recent thoughts.

He'd be damned if he would allow the Slytherin to get the better of him now.

"I'd have to agree on that, regardless how primitive you make it sound. Ginny did not make my life any easier."

"A relationship is worth nothing if, at the end of the day, it makes you more miserable than before, which is entirely my point, though I doubt any Weasley can make life easier for anyone."

"As if Malfoys made life easier for others."

"But we never pretended we wanted to. Big difference," Draco said, cocking his head to one side.

"I mean, I follow the love life bit mostly."

"The sex life is too extreme for you, I'm sure."

Harry felt his face burn again.

"I'm just not that kind of person…"

Draco actually laughed.

"You've got prominent canines, did you know that?"

It had slipped out before Harry realised, but this was the third time he was allowed a glimpse of Draco's perfect white teeth. Draco rested his silver eyes curiously on Harry's face.

"You're an odd man, Harry Potter. An odd man who gives odd remarks to other men."

Draco's words hit Harry like a branch from the Womping Willow. His mind begged that the Slytherin would not take it further, but it appeared his luck ran out for the day. One cannot discuss sex and love with Draco Malfoy without suffering scrutiny at one point.

"Are you gay?"

Harry spit his soup back into the mug. Squinting through his tears, he cursed his inability to read Draco's face at this very moment.

"N… No," he spluttered.

Draco impertinently read Harry's face, while the latter recovered from the shock. Whatever the platinum blonde thought to find was stored carefully in his manipulative mind. Without another word, Draco took his cloak and moved closer to Harry.

"Better get some sleep," he said, ignoring Harry's reply.

Seemingly perfectly at ease with the situation, Draco got comfortable, stretching gracefully, before closing his eyes.

"Good night, Potter."

Harry stared at the blonde serpent, lying next to him, wondering what had happened and just what it would cost him. Annoyed at himself, he tried to find a comfortable spot next to Draco.

_Are you gay?_

How could he ask that, after they had just been discussing Ginny?

"I'm not the one in designer clothes," Harry muttered under his breath, punching the ball of cloak in anger.

Next to his left arm, a bit too close for comfort at this very moment, a silver slit eyed Harry.

"Designer clothes do not equal homosexuality, o clueless one."

"What about your hair then?"

"What _about_ my hair? Just because you look like an exploded tree doesn't mean everyone else has to as well."

"My hair just _does_ that!"

One side of Draco's mouth twitched in amusement. It was so easy to needle Harry.

"Of course it does," he said in mock kindness.

Harry grunted, turned over and flopped down onto his back. At his arm, he now felt the touch of Draco's hair, as soft as a butterfly.

_Incendio._

_Incendio._

Two roaring fires became their guardians. Draco recalled the nickname Harry had used on him. _"Don't tell me the Slytherin Prince has been without a sex life?"_

"Who actually used that nickname by the way?"

"Which nickname," Harry said.

"The 'Slytherin Prince' one."

"I picked it up somewhere, because it suited you. No idea who used it. Probably your fans at Hogwarts."

"Yeah. You should have had plenty of those too, Golden Boy. Don't sound so annoyed. Didn't you bang some of them?"

"Malfoy, seriously… I thought you were raised better than that."

"Odd coming from you… I was raised to play pretend like an expert. In the end, I choose how I behave."

_So __I was right about the gentleman thing._

"Still, it's rather unethical to use those girls for sex."

"Who said anything about girls?"

Draco smirked evilly as he watched Harry tense, turned his back on the man and fell asleep a happy Slytherin. The Gryffindor hardly slept at all, doing his utmost not to touch Draco during the night and keep his mind from falling apart.


	15. I'll Try to Try

The next morning, Draco awoke first, finding a curled up Harry next to him. Remembering the games he had been playing the evening before, he was surprised to find the Gryffindor so soundly asleep.

_So Harry Potter was a closeted homosexual? If that was all this journey would produce at the end of the line, it was worth it._

Deciding to feed his Slytherin side a bit more than usual, Draco leaned into Harry, stopping when his lips nearly touched the other's ear. The scruffy hair tickled his cheeks.

"Rise and shine, Golden Boy," he whispered.

Harry's eyes flew open, panic apparent.

"Slept well?" Draco asked in a purr.

With a groan, the other created a bit of distance between them, eyeing Draco disbelievingly.

"Malfoy, could you not do that."

"I can only promise I'll try to try. Not to do that. Whatever _that_ may be."

"You've gone into teenage mode again and you know it."

"It's the spell. They can have odd side effects."

Harry gave an annoyed huff and shoved his companion, unsure whether he intended it to be playful or not. Perhaps there was some truth in Draco's words, because the blonde was acting rather strangely.

"I told you your sense of humour is at the expense of others."

"Well, you can hardly blame me when I just found out the second most favoured bachelor of the Wizarding World is actually a poof."

"Don't flatter yourself," Harry said smugly. "You are not the most favoured eligible bachelor of the Wizarding World."

"You certainly will not be once this gets out."

"Once _what_ gets out! I am not gay. Perhaps _you_ would like me to be, but I'm not."

Being around the Slytherin's constant insults had tapped into a primeval well within Harry's psyche. Much to the latter's dismay; it did not impress Draco that much. If anything, it spiked his truculence.

"Hilarious," Draco laughed. "Now I'm the one who wants Potter to be gay. Look, I can't help it if you've been hiding in the closet, mate."

"Says the one who is spotted with a different girl at his arm every week."

"Been keeping track of my love life then?"

Why did Draco always seem two steps ahead of Harry? This is ridiculous, Harry thought, dismissing the question and the situation. Here he was, in the middle of Merlin knew which kind of place, discussing sexual orientation with Draco Malfoy.

"Could we please just drop it? I can hardly believe we're discussing this, but apart from that we have other issues."

Draco eyed his map in response, his silver eyes glittering with malice.

"Did you ever bother trying to recover your broom, Potter?"

The pun was no doubt intended, but Harry decided to ignore Draco's childishness. Anything to let go of the sticky subject at hand.

"No. Why?"

"I did, but it didn't appear. Just wondering."

"_Accio _broom!"

Harry's broom fell into his unsuspecting right hand.

"Nice," the Gryffindor grinned.

"You're an idiot. Why didn't you try this before?"

"I didn't think of it," Harry shrugged. "Too busy with that thing in the water."

"Right," Draco said, a strange tone in his voice.

The situation was already amusingly clear to the Slytherin, now that _one_ broom was available again, but he intended to wait for the effect to kick in without saying a word.

Harry's eyes closed in comprehension a few seconds later. With a slightly dramatic sigh, he threw one leg over his broom.

"Get on, will you," he said, without even looking at Draco.

"More than willingly."

In echo of the one other time they had shared a broom, Draco now purposely slid his arms around Harry's waist, taking his jolly time. Smirking slightly, he pressed his body against the Gryffindor until his nose was only a few inches away from Harry's neck. Draco could swear he saw the hairs rise, had Harry not lifted off the next moment.

"I'll nudge you with my legs when you need to correct our course."

Harry simply gave a curt nod. The wind crashed into his face. Below he saw the woods flash by, vaguely aware of how fast he was flying.

In the back of his neck, he could almost feel every syllable fall off of Draco's lips, carried by warm breath against his skin. It was maddening. Draco's games were painful, but that as such could not even come close to the awkwardness of the situation.

_Draco could perhaps… just maybe… have a point__. Of all people, Draco Malfoy had to be the one to shout it out at him? It would explain the lie about his sex life with Ginny. Amongst other things._

The gods were not exactly being kind on him.It would at least explain his dreams of late. And a whole lot of other things Harry was not exactly keen on thinking of. He needed a plan of action against the Slytherin's newfound favourite pastime.

They flew on for hours, Draco steadily guiding the raven-haired man. Now and then, he attempted to pester the pilot, but soon found himself with a very unresponsive victim.

The green patches of the woods beneath grew less thickly strewn and were slowly replaced by a rocky landscape. Light from the setting sun made the world appear red.

"It has been a while since I have seen that," he heard behind him.

Draco's mood seemed to have changed all of a sudden, but Harry discovered he was not in the mood to react calmly.

"Are you yanking my wand, Malfoy?"

With an exasperated sound, Draco made his forehead thud between Harry's shoulder blades. It took Harry a few seconds to register that the other was shaking with laughter.

"What?!"

"You truly are something, Potter!"

Draco's laugh rang loud in the air.

"We've just been discussing whether you're gay. You say you want to drop the subject, ignore me for hours on end and then the first you say has to do with an expression like 'yank my wand'? Perhaps you'd prefer to drop the soap at our next stop rather than the subject?"

"I'd much rather drop you!"

A quick flick of his arms made the broom turn upside down. Harry felt Draco's muscles tighten, his legs clinging strongly around Harry's thighs.

"Nice try," the other taunted.

Harry gasped when his blonde passenger tightened his grip on his chest.

"Instead of fooling around with me and trying to kill me, you'd better get us to the ground. There are some caves down there we can sleep in."

"Gladly."

Recklessly, the Gryffindor steered into the depths, towards solid earth. Within seconds their feet touched the rocky bottom they had entered. Harry practically threw Draco off the broom as soon as they hit the floor.

"Easy there, tiger."

"Malfoy, quit it. Whichever liking I was developing for you is rapidly disappearing again."

Draco eyed Harry disbelievingly.

_Was it him or did Potter become less logical the more he annoyed him? Or perhaps he had truly pushed the right button._

"Before you think that is another stupid remark, let me explain something. I was beginning to see you as something more than the spoiled dumb bullying Death Eater child you were raised as."

"Truly?"

"Truly, although you're doing your utmost to undo that."

Cocking his head to the side, Draco shot Harry his most disdainful look. "Potter, what makes you think I care about how you think or feel about me?"


	16. Common Sense

Harry didn't even scowl at Draco's cold words.

"Nothing makes me think that. The truth remains that remorse … remorse is what makes the difference, something you felt as well, despite your cowardice to step forward. I figured that Minerva was right. As were you, although for you I'm sure the whole it-is-in-the-past-thing was purely theoretical."

"My, my, I really pissed you off, didn't I?"

"Stop acting like a child, Malfoy! I know the Wizarding World has not been fair to you, but you were allowed back in, much to the dismay of a lot of people. Could you just fucking deal with the consequences of your own choices?"

Draco's brain felt the perverse need to make the observation that Harry's train of thought was a lot like a woman's, bringing in things from the past which – as interesting as they may seem - were anything but relevant. Instead of voicing that thought, he chose to make his face look blank.

In fact, he felt a slight frown mar his forehead.

"Merlin, why did I even consider you changed?"

Draco watched Harry pull at his black hair in frustration, not really talking to the blonde, but not trying to keep it down either.

"Why would you _want_ to consider I changed?"

Harry sighed, turning back to the Slytherin, his raised arm falling down roughly in a desperate gesture.

"Like I said. Remorse."

Draco shook his head in annoyed ignorance. The Gryffindor seemed to hesitate, then decided.

"I can't believe I'm going to tell you this, but… When Voldemort 'killed' me, I … was able to see Dumbledore again."

For a split second a pained expression ran across Draco's face.

"He and I talked about everything that had happened, the 'Why?' behind his actions and about Voldemort. The part of his soul that was in me was dying, but I still had to kill the real Voldemort."

"You talked with a dead man?"

Harry raised his hand, a flash of anger in his green eyes.

"Don't start."

"Just asking. Go on," Draco nodded.

The two men faced each other. Black and red clothes billowing in the wind.

"He explained to me that the last thing Voldemort could possibly do to save himself was to try for remorse. Which is why I asked him… During that final battle."

Draco read Harry's face like an open book, finding anger, sadness, pain, melancholy and something he could not quite determine? Pansy would have explained to him it was compassion, has she been there.

"Of course he would not hear of it."

"Are you saying that if Voldemort had been prepared to show remorse for his actions, he would have been saved?"

"I highly doubt that," Harry shook his head.

He bent through his knees, leaning on his elbows, running a hand through his dark hair, making it stand on end even more so.

"The only thing that could have been saved was his soul, but to go through with remorse is a very painful process, especially for someone who had killed as many as Voldemort. So he as a person would not have survived, but his soul might have."

"Personally, I don't think that would have been a good thing," Draco said sardonically.

To his surprise he saw a ghost of a smile flicker across Harry's face. Draco wished it was the full smile. He liked that one better.

"You've got a point there. Better a truly dead Voldemort than a vaguely alive soul somewhere, even if that was a remorseful soul."

"Something like that," Draco agreed, absently rubbing his forearm. "Still what does remorse have to do with us?"

Harry's green eyes locked with Draco's at the sound of the last word.

"We never killed anyone, at least not out of the sheer evilness of our personality and especially not for personal gain. But the way I see it, remorse also has to do with forgiveness."

Frowning lightly, Harry's eyes lost their focus, as if he ran lost inside Draco's head. Draco swallowed for a second, a bit unsettled at the turn the conversation had taken.

"It took me a long time to forgive you. In fact, I still had not forgiven you for anything before we met again at Hogwarts."

"Do you honestly believe it's your forgiveness I'm waiting for," Draco lied to himself.

"No," Harry smiled kindly. "I do not think that, because it would be presumptuous of me and I'm a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. Contrary to what you may think I do not believe the world revolves around me."

Draco inhaled air through his nose deeply, but refrained from commenting. The nasty part was that he believed Harry.

"What I do believe… What I began believing, however, is that you never really had a choice. Well, perhaps you did, but not really. By the time you were smart enough or old enough to think for yourself, the damage had been done."

"Generous of you."

Harry's eyes did that trick again. The trick that made Draco question why the Gryffindor simply would not take the bait. Why he seemed to drown inside Draco's mind.

"Common sense, Draco, nothing more."

Draco felt a sense of wonder at the sound of his first name, rolling off of Harry's lips, while the raven-haired man maintained his endless gaze, not realising the first step in a breakthrough had been made. Neither of the young men realised anything and would not do so for a very long time.


	17. End Of The Line

And another one in a short span of time. Thought I owed you that much, since it's been a while.

Thanks to everyone who's keeping track of this story. Feel free to review now and then. It's always nice to receive feedback.

Enjoy!

~ Anvan

---------

It was difficult not to lose track of time. They spent days, weeks trotting on, hoping each time that the end was near. Their surroundings kept changing, but the young men were unable to Disapparate from the place. Despite numerous attempts to get a vague idea of where they were, neither of them was able to discover a name or location. They caught sight of a few owls, but none of them were trained to deliver messages. Enchanted letters they tried to send out simply fluttered a few feet into the air, to crumple pathetically and drop back to the ground. Even their Patronusses were unable to find a way out.

Only the map and some basic spells still seemed to work, much to Harry's contentment. Protective spells and charms remained intact throughout every night and their magical fires never died out. Food had become a problem, since they had run out of rations a long time ago. To Harry's surprise, a refined Draco Malfoy revealed himself as a skilled hunter and flayer. Both of them enjoyed to cook up something decent using the flesh and whichever roots they could dig up.

Had they not been in a hostile environment, the situation could have appeared homey. Of course Harry shied away from such thoughts.

The lack in decent hygiene did create a very irritated Slytherin, whereas the Gryffindor, considering his experiences during the Voldemort era, did not really mind. It appalled Harry to find out just how many hygienic and embellishing charms Draco had at his disposal. Would they have a bathroom, Harry was sure Draco would spend hours inside it and he did not hesitate to tease the other about it. Usually, Draco just eyed Harry's body and attire with his cool silver eyes, not wasting words on an obviously hopeless case.

Harry also got a taste of Draco's mood swings. Theoretically it was easy to deal with the blonde's foul temper. All it took was a period of quiet resentment on Draco's part, a seemingly accidental question of a futile nature on Harry's part ("Want something to drink?" or "Does that look like a rabbit to you?") and an apology, regardless of who was truly at fault. Yelling or shouting abuse only made matters worse, just as prolonged silences did. Yet Harry did not possess the right tools to read Draco Malfoy at this point in time nor would his pride allow him to apologize when he was not the one to blame. Opposed to Draco, he would not apologize at all.

So they sometimes travelled on in uncomfortable silence, both wanting to get away from each other, but unable to do so because of the curse that connected their bodies. On two occasions each of them had tried running off once, only to return ten minutes later with chattering teeth and nearly blue lips.

Extremely pissed off, they had sat in silence, fighting a battle of wills with their eyes. The first one to look away would win the argument. In the end, they discovered they had fallen asleep on both occasions, the argument unsettled.

Sleeping was actually one the best moments for both of them. Usually, they unknowingly took turns standing guard. Without debate, they got into the routine and each took his responsibility. As Head Auror, Harry was used to watching over people, reading body language (though with Draco he never really could tell for sure) and kept the knowledge in mind at the end of the day. As a teacher, although he would love to deny it, Draco was capable of sensing mood swings and fatigue from a mile away and his business skills provided him with the necessary common sense to deal with a crisis (which, mind you, did not automatically equal the absence of childish remarks: Draco had the mix of the two in his magical fingers).

During their watches, both men thought that they were behaving uncharacteristically. Draco often pondered how he managed to put up with Harry for so long, without attempting to either mutilate or kill him. In turn, Harry found himself incapable of disliking Draco the way he used to, which in itself was unsettling enough without Draco's constant badgering about sex. Especially that latter subject tended to come up regularly, what with Draco having found a new goal in life.

One thing that bothered Harry was the fact this his odd dreams increased whenever Draco and he did not get along, while they more or less ceased when they were on friendly terms. He chose to ignore the psychoanalytical explanation behind it.

The map had already led them from Rhoswen's forests into the rocky caves, where they wandered for about a good week. The journey was pretty uneventful, except for the chase for food and a delightful happening between the two men.

The rocky terrain became ever rockier, until eventually they were travelling through a mountain chain, no longer in the sunlight. It did not bother Draco that much, since he was used to the Slytherin dungeons and Malfoy Manor, but it did manage to dent Harry's optimism.

Savouring his bad mood for the third day in a row, Harry trotted behind Draco, for once not inclined to play the top dog game. Draco's wand lit the way, throwing eerie shadows on the rocky walls. Imagination willing, one could find faces in there, hidden between the sharp edges and small craters.

A sudden change in routine drew Harry's attention, as Draco turned around, seemingly to check whether his companion was still following. The light went out. By force of habit both of them took another few steps.

"AH!"

Harry's hands instinctively reached forward to where Draco's yell had come from. Scrambling hands caught hold of his and both men went tumbling down. Harry hit the rocks hard with his right shoulder, before splashing into a small puddle of water. His shirt instantly clung to his chest. Moaning, he pushed himself back up.

"Malfoy?"

"I'm here."

The blonde sounded a bit pained as well. Harry imagined both of them groping for each other in the dark, when sudden he felt a hand brush against his nipple through his wet shirt. It sent tingles down his body, arousing his desire. Inwardly cursing, he prayed to every god and goddess he knew that Draco would not notice.

What was worse was the fact that his mind suddenly freewheeled. In a split second, Harry wanted _more_ of those hands. Thank Merlin that they were in the dark, because had he caught eye of Malfoy's lips at this very moment…

Harry never felt more ashamed of himself than he did at that point, in a wet cave, where he was working against the Dark Arts with Draco Malfoy. Unexpectedly, Draco pulled Harry to his feet.

"We need to keep moving, Potter, this is no coincidence."

"You're right," he said, mentally kicking himself.

_Lumos_!

"No reaction… We'll need to go by touch."

"Great," Harry said mock-enthusiastically.

Draco's hand slid into his own. It felt warmer than Harry had expected.

"Can you see decently in the dark?"

"I may be used to living in the dungeons, but that does not mean I have nocturnal eyesight. That being said, I did come up with a spell to improve night vision."

"Has it been tested on innocent victims yet?"

"Cute," Draco snorted.

The sound of their boots splashing through water echoed against the rocky walls. It felt as if the air was growing thinner and their manoeuvrability was diminishing as well. The walls were suddenly closing in on them.

"Damnit," Harry gritted through his teeth. "I hate small spaces."

_Aegilopus_!

Instantly, Harry blinked a few times. He could make out a shape of Draco's head, quite close by. Letting his eyes drift lower, the Gryffindor found their entwined hands, holding onto one another like lifelines.

"Not bad," Harry said, quite impressed with the result.

In the darkness, he could swear he saw Draco smirk.

"What did you expect? The obvious being said, we're in for a ride."

Harry reluctantly peeled his eyes off of the entwined hands and followed the direction where Draco's other finger was pointing. In the Gryffindor's head, it was as if the song was sung through a megaphone, leaving him deaf to all kinds of common sense.

"We need to go underwater."

"Considering our last experience with that, I'm not too keen on the idea," Harry stated calmly.

Draco rolled his eyes at him.

"We can't afford to lose each other in there," he ignored Harry's complaint, though he shared the thought. "Got any rope on you?"

Harry rummaged through his rucksack wordlessly. It took him about fifteen seconds to take out a ball of rope and a small jar.

"What's that?"

"I brought gillyweed."

Harry managed to flash his teeth at Draco.

"I'm impressed, Potter."

"You did not just say that."

A bit clumsily, Harry screwed open the jar and handed Draco a fourth of the gillyweed inside, hoping they'd have enough for the way back if need be. Both men swallowed quickly, trying not to gag too much. Strapping their rucksacks tight and the rope between them even tighter, Harry with his broom impractically against his back, they waded into the waterhole. They exchanged looks for a split second, before diving.

The water was quite warm and stayed that way. The men could now see each other through a veil of blue instead of the nightly grey of Draco's spell. Their robes flared like flames.

Harry felt a tug at his waist, as Draco swam faster than he did. Struggling, he kicked the water, trying to keep up. He hated small spaces and he hated water. What he wouldn't give to be on a broom right now.

Draco's strong kicks guided Harry through the water and he did his utter best not to be a literal deadweight for the man. One glance upwards told him they were not quite anywhere near daylight. A particularly rough tug warned Harry in time. Draco's blonde head was no longer in view. Instead something dark and fishy rapidly advanced on Harry. It enveloped him like a spider would a bug caught in its web.


	18. Rowle

Hello to you all,

I just wanted to throw in here that I appreciate the reviews and the favourite story alerts tremendously. Thanks a lot for your kind words and positive reactions, people. ^^

Another thing: the cliffhangers are a – sometimes annoying – habit of mine. I strive the have one every time, even if it's tiny. Sorry if that would bother some, but it's hard to resist. *grins*

I hope you enjoy the latest addition to _Shameless._

Hugs,

~ Anvan

---------------

By the time he came to, there was no more water, no more broom and no more rope. At the other end of the non-existent rope should have been Malfoy, but he too was gone. Harry cursed loudly.

"Take it easy, Golden Boy."

For a split second Harry hoped that was Malfoy, but instead an unfamiliar face came out of the shadows surrounding him. Immediately Harry stopped squirming and studied the newcomer. His mind scanned through hundred of pictures of Death Eaters and Dark Wizards, until it finally came to a halt: Thorfinn Rowle.

"Hello, Thorfinn," Harry stated calmly. "I thought you would have been caught by now."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Harry blinked a few times, trying to make his eyes adapt to the darkness. Very faintly, he could see that Malfoy's spell was still working, but it didn't help him one bit. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

"He's in another cave," Thorfinn put in.

Harry locked eyes with the Death Eater and decided he needed to get to the point as soon as possible.

"Get on with it, Thorfinn. What are you up to?"

"Not even a 'What do you want?'," Thorfinn sneered questioningly.

"I doubt there are a lot of things you want from me, especially if you've gone through all the trouble to get Draco and myself all the way out here."

Thorfinn grinned and shook his head, causing his blonde hair to fall into his eyes.

"Why did you have to win, Potter?"

"Why did you pick the losing side," Harry countered casually.

"I have suffered quite a few things because of you."

"And I because of your Lord. So what's the big deal," Harry grunted, struggling against his bonds. "It's well in the past, isn't it?"

Thorfinn got up, quick as a snake, and stepped over to Harry. Only now did the dark-haired young man catch the maniacal glint in Thorfinn's eyes and the poor state he was generally in. His blonde hair was greasy, his skin looked cracked and dirty, and his clothes hung in loose rags around a starved body. Between his fingers with black nails Thorfinn held a wand, much to Harry's dismay. How long had the guy been hiding? Five years of hiding in caves, constantly running? _Tenacious…_

Harry swallowed, his mind going into overdrive. His own wand was nowhere in the vicinity. In fact, apart from the rope he was tied up with and some rocks, only Thorfinn was nearby. Then he felt the familiar cold kick in from not having Draco around.

"The past it may be for you, Potter," Thorfinn growled. "But I still have not forgotten what the Dark Lord did to me, after I failed catching you and your two little friends."

"I can only imagine," Harry said, calmer than he felt. "He didn't really have a lot of patience to spare for those who failed. Nevertheless, you're still alive, aren't you?"

"For what," Thorfinn wailed. "A life in hiding, covered in dirt, eating insects? I'd rather have died in the war!"

Harry scrambled to his feet, his arms bound tightly to his body, noticing that Thorfinn still towered over him. Luckily, the Death Eater made no attempt to shove Harry back to the ground. He was too busy pouring out his heart.

"After all these years, this is your plan?"

"I will finish what Lord Voldemort started," Thorfinn rambled, like a child would rattle of a well-studied poem. "He meant to kill you."

"And failed," Harry pointed out bluntly. His hands clung to the rock wall behind him, while he shuffled to the only exit he could see. Wherever Malfoy was, that was surely the way he had disappeared.

"What's the use in finishing what he started? Voldemort's definitely never going to know, and there's nothing left to gain with it."

"Mere satisfaction, Potter," Thorfinn grinned his yellow teeth bare. "The satisfaction of succeeding where the Dark Lord failed, of finishing what he started. Then at least these last few years in agony have not been in vain."

"Thorfinn, really," Harry smiled weakly. "Surely, if you manage to survive for five years, there must be more to life than just this?"

For a split second, the huge blonde Death Eater seemed to mull over that possibility.

"No."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he had to admit that there were very few possibilities for Death Eaters in the Wizarding World lately.

"What of Draco?" he suddenly asked. "What'll you do to him?"

"I didn't expect someone to join you, and certainly not the Malfoy runt of all people, but I guess I could just do away with him as well. After all, he has turned on the Dark Lord as well, and deserves nothing more than death."

Harry was at a loss of words and was therefore thoroughly surprised when someone replied in his stead.

"Seriously, Rowle, I thought you were brighter than this."

Harry's head shot up at the sound of Draco's voice. A platinum blonde head poked around the corner of the cave.

"_Bombardo!_"

It sounded as if the ceiling collapsed completely. Rocks and dust came crashing down on top of them, and Harry did his utmost to run over to Malfoy before it got worse.

"How in Merlin's name did you do that without a wand," Harry yelled.

"Wandless magic, you git," Draco growled. "How did you ever become an Auror with such slow wits?!"

Wandless magic had never been his strength. Before Harry could reconsider his own stupidity, more rocks came falling down. Behind him, he heard Thorfinn scream and saw flashes of red light. The man was trying to destroy the rocks coming at him.

Harry tried to take a breath to cast a wandless spell, but inhaled dust. The next he knew he was coughing like a maniac and Draco had once again disappeared from his sight. Wheezing like an elderly dog, Harry stumbled forward, away from the rocks behind him, his voice useless and Draco lost.


	19. Bandage, bondage? Whichever!

Green eyes cracked open with effort. His lashes were covered in dirt, blurring his vision. Harry coughed once and felt a pang of pain run through his body. His arms were still tied to his body and numb.

"Malfoy?"

Although he intended to shout out for his companion, his voice was nothing more than a croak. His surroundings were grey, silent and dusty. Harry moaned, rolling over onto his back, hearing debris fall off of his body and tried to push himself up against a big rock. It became apparent that his right foot had been hurt, but apart from that he only suffered some cuts and bruises. And broken glasses.

Harry coughed up some phlegm and spit out an almost pitch-black gooey mass.

"Malfoy?!"

This time his voice resonated more clearly. Cursing, he ignored the pain and forced himself to move swiftly. For all he knew, Thorfinn was still alive and out for the kill.

"_Diffindo_," he hissed angrily, mainly at himself.

The ropes immediately loosened around his wrists. Ignoring the pain in his foot, the Gryffindor pushed himself up against the rock.

_Accio backpack_.

To his relief, the backpack turned up, and Harry had his wand back. Tossing the pack over his shoulder, he raised his wand high.

_Lumos!_

Harry started walking, going round huge rocks that had come off the ceiling. It looked as if the insides of the mountain had come down on them completely.

"Malfoy, where are you?"

A groan was his reply, but when a dirt-fingered, inelegant hand clawed its way from under a heap of rubbish, the raven-haired man immediately knew this was not Malfoy. With a carnal growl and sudden rise of anger, Harry closed the distance between himself and the Death Eater. Without a word, he smashed his hand into the pile of rubbish, grabbed hold of Thorfinn's hair and yanked with all his might.

"You fucking bastard," Harry growled. "I'll tell you where you're headed now. Straight to Azkaban for the rest of your life."

Thorfinn only wailed, when Harry's fist yanked even harder at his hair, to pull him out of the rubble.

"Take it easy, Potter. Physical abuse can be held against you."

"Draco!"

Thorfinn forgotten, Harry let go of him and whirled round, searching for the familiar blonde head. To his horror, he found him covered under debris and rather huge rocks.

"Might want to stun that _runt_ before you take care of me," Draco bit through clenched teeth.

His eyes glued to Draco's body, Harry whispered _Petrificus Totalis_, which caused Thorfinn to yelp and then fall silent.

"Draco," Harry said gently. "Can you move?"

"Hell, no," the Slytherin grinned. "Just levitate these rocks."

Harry nodded, casting several Hover charms, while trying not to hurt Draco. As he dug deeper, Draco's breathing became uneven and several gasps of pain followed. It seemed to take all of Draco's efforts not to cry out in pain before the eyes of Harry Potter, and in the end he didn't. The Gryffindor remained silent, as he bent through his knees to scoop Draco's body in his arms.

"Don't…," he heard Draco's protest.

"I have to," Harry countered. "I can't leave you here, and I certainly can't take care of you here. The ceiling might still collapse."

"I don't want to be saved again," Draco complained.

Harry couldn't help but snicker, as he tightened his grip on Draco.

"I couldn't get you out of here, if you hadn't turned up in the first place. How did you manage to get out anyway?"

Draco hissed for a moment, before answering. "Well, as ridiculous as it may sound, Thorfinn wasn't exactly a worthy adversary. Seems his brain has melted over the years, so he sort of stuffed me in a separate cave, but didn't bother to gag me. It was pretty easy to get out, but then I had to find him back. And you."

"Was it him then, at Hogwarts?"

The Slytherin nodded, eyes closed, leaning against Harry's chest. It left the Gryffindor somewhat mesmerised, and he almost tripped. Ahead of him, he could see some faint light.

"We're out, Draco."

The cool night air was like balm on Harry's skin and he felt like putting Draco down, to lie on the ground and sleep. Yet, one look at Draco's condition in the pale light of the moon made him decide against that.

"You look like shit," Harry said, while lowering Draco.

The blonde grunted noncommittally and glared at his companion, but soon shut his eyes in agony again.

"Potter, do something…"

"I will, I will," Harry muttered, distracted by the moan in Draco's voice.

Quickly, he performed an instant-reaction spell on Draco to dull the pain. _Stolidolor_.

"Hold still. I need to transfigure you a bandage."

"Bondage? Why, yes, I'd love to tie you up, Potter."

Harry's hands trembled and he instantly blushed, while whispering _Ferula_.

"_Ban_dage, Draco, _ban_dage. God, your mind makes disturbing loops when delirious."

"It's not a loop," the blonde purred, leaning forward in slow motion. The painkiller spell was working, causing Draco to move slowly, seemingly thinking over every gesture thoroughly. "I'd love to see you twist and turn against my silk sheets."

Harry tried his best to ignore Draco's disconcerting words. They were too familiar for comfort. When he turned back to Draco, he found the other alarmingly close by, without knowing how he'd gotten there.

"You should model for me," Draco whispered right into Harry's ear.

"Model?" Harry's voice broke like it had not done since his teen years.

"Yessssss… I design clothes. Own my own line and everything. Brings in heaps of cash too."

"You don't need heaps of cash," Harry countered, choosing what seemed like the safest subject in the whole of Draco's statement.

"True that," the blonde admitted instantly, pulling Harry closer. "But it introduces me to the finest pieces of ass in the modelling business. Yours is a fine one, might I add."

From money to asses, Harry panicked. The Gryffindor frowned, trying to focus on Draco's numerous wounds, but the lick at his ear had him jerking away from Draco's touch with a yelp.

"Draco, don't…," Harry breathed. "Don't do this."

"You're calling me by my first name," Draco slurred.

His silver eyes seemed to be glowing in the moonlight and reminded Harry all too much of his dreams of late. The song hit his mind like a brick wall. Harry knew he would not hold it together, when he noticed Draco's lips part, as the Slytherin's eyes locked with his own.

_Your poison running through my veins…_

What harm could it do, he asked himself? Draco was as delirious as could be, and after all it had been the blonde who had suggested something involving silk sheets, not Harry.

_Your poison running through my veins…_

The silver-eyed man didn't react to anything, distracted by Harry's face so close to his own. Regardless of his resolve not to give into his temptation, Harry felt himself lean closer and closer.

_Your poison running through my veins…_

Draco would not remember… He could even Obliviate him… He wouldn't remember…

_Your poison running through my veins…_

Harry decided that if he was to give in, he might as well take in every possible detail of this moment; the moment he would kiss the Slytherin Prince, Draco Malfoy; the man who had been haunting his dreams for months. His eyes felt heavy, but he hungrily took in the vision of closing in on Draco's exquisite face.

_Your poison running through my veins…_

Draco was looking into his eyes, and although Harry had done so before, it felt as if the Slytherin looked through him now. Curiously, Harry looked at Draco's parted lips, glistening wetly and felt his body be set on fire, when Draco licked those lips. Then the silver eyes, with their long lashes, fluttered shut, as the shadow of Harry's face took away the moonlight.

_Your poison running through my veins…_

Harry stopped when he felt his lips barely touch Draco's. Their breaths mingled, and the skin in Harry's neck crawled in anticipation. He inhaled Draco's breath and scent, considered one last time if possibly he was doing the stupidest thing in his life, then closed his eyes; tilted his head ever so slightly to willingly and knowingly kiss Draco Malfoy.

_Your poison running through my veins…_

A slight moan escaped Harry at the first sensation of skin against skin, even if they were only lips. Gently he let go of Draco's, to immediately kiss them again, placing small kisses over and over; feeling his head spin with every renewed touch.

_Your poison running through__…_

Draco opened his mouth slightly, breathing into Harry. Momentarily Harry's eyes fluttered open to see silver eyes looking at him, clouded with lust. Unable to control himself, Harry groaned louder. He knew it was an invitation; he wanted Draco to invade his mouth…

_Your poison running through__…_

Harry placed both his hands on either side of the Slytherin, leaning over him, pressing their chests together. Through their clothes Harry thought he could feel heat radiating.

_Your poison running__…_

One of his legs was allowed between the blonde's, where he felt proof of the man's arousal. Harry's breath hitched and he could almost swear he felt Draco's lips curve into a smile.

_Your poison running__…_

Harry gently licked at Draco's lips, pleading for entrance. Before he was granted so, Draco slid his hands up Harry's shirt.

_Your poison running__…_

It shortly reminded Harry of the moment when Draco had brushed his wet skin in the cave. Instinctively, he ground his hips against his companion, again demanding access with his tongue. In response Draco buried his other hand in Harry's hair, just above the nape of his neck.

_Your poison__…_

Draco's soft moan had Harry's mind reeling with desire, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Draco allowing him access to his mouth. Hungrily, Harry adjusted the position of his head to fully intertwine with Draco.

_You…_

One silver eye slid open curiously, and shut itself again, apparently pleased with the current situation.

The song stopped humming in Harry's mind forever.


	20. The First Gryffindor In History To Lie

Draco woke up, feeling as if he'd first been given a good hammering by the Whomping Willow; before which Bellatrix might have had a few go's at him with the Crucio Curse; and after which he seemed to have narrowly escaped the children of Aragog on foot. Yet, he also felt distinctly pleased with himself. Whatever Harry Potter had thought to get away with had been a thorough mistake. Wordlessly, Draco cast a spell on himself, to counter any kind of Obliviate spell. This was not something he wanted to forget any time soon.

Curious, he tried to sit up decently enough to look for Harry. He found the Gryffindor just a few inches further, curled into a ball again. The sun was up high and was scalding his skin. It was way too hot; and Draco felt dirty.

"Potter," he said, rather softly.

With a snatch, Harry reacted and sat up; his eyes small and tired, squinting against the sunlight.

"Wha… What? Draco?"

"Who else," the Slytherin retorted calmly, ignoring the use of his first name. "Wake up and help me. Your band aids from yesterday look disgusting, I feel disgusting and I want to get out of here."

Toilsome, the dark-haired man got up, while his eyes seemed to search Draco's face. With all the effort he could muster, Draco refrained from grinning knowingly. He'd save his information for later.

"Come on," he grunted. "Get on with it."

"I'm not a house-elf."

"At this moment you're the only one who can help me get what I want and I am not a serene patient!"

Harry's eyes widened for a second, but he staggered closer to Draco. Skilfully he undid the bandages. Draco read Harry's face effortlessly. There were a few things going on at once in the Gryffindor's mind. Firstly, he was contemplating whether or not Draco remembered anything, judging by the probing looks that flitted over Draco's face. Secondly, he had his doubts about the way Draco's wounds looked, considering the frown that marred Harry's forehead. Thirdly, he was more than ever torn about his preferences, almost scared to let his hands touch Draco's skin. Fourthly, Draco recognised the morning after look on Harry's face all too well.

Delightful.

"Where's Thorfinn," Draco asked, to divert his attention from his wounds.

"Still in that mess," Harry replied, without looking at Draco, and vaguely jerking his chin towards the entrance to the caves. "I'll need to clean your wounds, but there's no water nearby."

"My backpack is lost, I think," Draco assented. "We need to return to Rhoswen's forests."

"Maybe Thorfinn's hold over us has ended," Harry pointed out. "Perhaps we can send out a Patronus or even Disapparate."

"Keep it simple," Draco panted. "Send a Patronus and wait for a reply."

"Yeah, you're in no condition to Disapparate immediately."

"That's not what I meant," the blonde hissed, at which Harry made eye contact for the first time and threw him a doubtful look.

"Suit yourself," the Gryffindor grumbled. "I'll go find Thorfinn."

Draco didn't reply, as Harry propped him up against a rock, with his cloak serving as a blanket. Instead, he pensively watched the other leave. It only took Harry a few minutes to return, levitating Thorfinn.

"One wonders how he managed to lure us away so far," the Slytherin said. "It's not as if he was such a strong wizard."

"It doesn't take an extreme amount of talent to do such things," Hary replied. "Besides, he might have done some things together with other people. We'll find out quite fast, once we get him to the Ministry."

Nodding, Draco pulled his wand out of his sleeve and flicked it meaningfully at Harry. "Well, shall you do the honours, or do I?"

"Go ahead," Harry shrugged. "I've got my hands full anyway. I found your backpack, by the way."

Draco wordlessly cast his Patronus. A small, but fearsome looking dragon burst from his wand, took a few twirls around its owner and dashed off after Draco had given her a message and a destination. Draco couldn't control a smile, as she flew off.

"Cute," Harry echoed Draco's smile.

"Dervla cannot be considered cute, Potter."

"Dervla?"

"Irish," Draco explained, though he made no attempt at explaining the meaning of the name.

"So we just sit and wait then?"

"Yes, rather an anticlimax to the whole thing, isn't it?"

"I don't know," Draco said. "It's more action than I've had in a long time."

Harry was too late controlling his facial features and cocked his eyebrow suggestively.

"No smart-ass remarks from you, Potter," Draco said warningly, and for some reason Harry let it go.

"Then I guess our adventure is over," the dark-haired man said instead.

"Was it as bad as you imagined it to be?"

"Sometimes it was even worse," Harry said, truthfully as always. "But whatever I told you was the truth. The past can well be left behind us, after all this time. I think."

"You think," Draco smirked. "And you make it sound as if we'll be best friends from now on."

"That's what you make of it, Draco," Harry countered kindly. "I never said that and it's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that every word I spoke to you was truthf…"

_Are you gay?_

_N… No._

Draco's eyes caught hold of Harry's knowingly.

"Perhaps there's a thing or two you need to reconsider, before finishing that sentence, Potter. You might end up being the first Gryffindor I know who actually told a lie."

Harry's green eyes darkened noticeably, yet he made not effort to contradict the Slytherin Prince, and instead thought back of the night before, forgetting about his companion. Draco, in turn, studied Harry Potter's face and was surprised at how easily they conversed, even if there was still an undertone of badgering; a distant echo of a past well behind them.


	21. I Solemnly Swear

I hope no one's expecting me to wrap this up soon… Because I won't. I don't know what happened exactly to this story, but the Muze decided she wanted to take a lot longer before giving either one of the boys what they wanted.

Hence, you'll have to be patient too… which I hope you'll be?

Enjoy, guys. I promise there will be action in the end.

~ Anvan

***

When Harry opened his eyes after dozing off for a minute, he instantly realised he was where he belonged, at his office in the Ministry of Magic. A spontaneous smile broke through on his face, as he saw Ron opposite of him, working fervently.

"By Merlin's beard, it's good to be back," he sighed.

Ron looked up from his papers and made a slight face. "Still getting over your adventure with Malfoy, ey, mate?"

Harry squinted at Ron's choice of words. "You could say that," he nevertheless admitted.

"Seems he really got to you," the redhead replied. "I'm surprised he hasn't smeared the whole thing in _The Daily Prophet_ yet."

Nodding his agreement, Harry glanced at his papers, although he knew Ron and he were not thinking of the same 'whole thing'. His eyes scanned standard issues, but still it was appalling that in the aftermath of Voldemort's near reign, so many people still insisted on exploring the Dark Arts or maintained their loyalty. Perhaps it was time Harry considered lecturing in Draco's classes.

_Wait… Did I just consider that?_

"How long has it been," Ron asked, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Months, really, I haven't kept track."

"And he never even sent you a thank-you-for-saving-my-life-yet-again-oh-great-Potter-note?"

"Technically," Harry said absently. "He may have saved my life once or twice too over there. Maybe even thrice."

"Really," Ron blurted out, a slight edge to his voice. "How come I'm only hearing this now?"

"Because when I was telling you about the mission, you were too busy being distracted by Herm…"

"Never mind," Ron squealed. "I think I remember."

Harry snorted lightly, but let the subject rest. Since he did not want anyone prying into his own love life, or lack thereof, he decided it best to leave others be as well. Ron and Hermione had the brains to come talk to him, if they needed his opinion and until they did, Harry thought it wise to leave them alone.

Also, since Hermione had confronted Harry with much the same issues Draco had confronted him with; Harry had no intentions of butting in on her love life anymore than he felt the need to taunt a Horntail. After much prodding he had told her about the incident with Draco.

"_You what?"_

"_I kissed him, Herm, and I don't know why."_

"_Well, I can give you a few reasons," she smirked._

"_Hermione!"_

"_Okay, okay, sorry," she said, not sounding the least bit so. "But, Harry, honestly, what do you expect me to say?"_

"_I don't know… Any piece of advice seems welcome at the moment," Harry sighed, pushing his fingers to his temples. Hermione's warm hand rested kindly on his arm._

"_Look, I know he has changed and any woman with an eye for beauty will assure you there could be worse men to kiss, but…"_

_A tone of concern had slipped into her voice, which made Harry look up. She had always defended Draco, since Voldemort had fallen. For some reason he had not expected her to have concerns about Draco, or what this all implied. Rather, Harry had hoped she could have given him some clarity._

"_But what," he prodded._

"_As much as he might have changed, Harry, you're crazy to put your heart into the hands of a Slytherin."_

"_So you're saying this is wrong?"_

"_I'm saying you need to be very careful. Draco has been spotted with lots of women at his arm…"_

"_Then why didn't he ever marry one of them?"_

"_Are you and Ginny married?"_

"_No," he said crossly. "What does that have to do with it?"_

"_Am I or Ron married?"_

"_You mean are you _and_ Ron married?"_

_She threw him a warning look and Harry quickly shook his head._

"_We have not yet reached the age when people expect you to be married, or be about to anyway. So why would you expect it of Draco?"_

_A bit frustrated, Harry pulled at his hair and shrugged._

"_You see," she said. "Not being married is not the same as being gay."_

"_Please don't use that word," Harry moaned._

"_Harry… Come to terms with it. It's the only way and if messing around with Draco is the only way to deal with it, then do so. Just be careful."_

_She hesitated for a split second._

"_He's a heartbreaker."_

Well, she definitely had set things in motion, if only sending his mind reeling with images after using the words 'messing with Draco'. And it was a good thing that he had not spoken to Ginny since his return, although it was not for lack of trying on her part. Ron was angry with him about it. The two men never talked about it. Harry would have to deal with Ginny as well, to finally end things.

_Fuck it, how long can I lie to myself?_

He needed to see Draco. It _had_ been months since they had seen each other, after the Thorfinn mission. Apart from some owls up and down, they had not talked. The owls had initially carried messages from Harry to Draco, informing him of the outcome of Thorfinn's case. Apparently there was still a network of Dark Wizards and Thorfinn was a tiny fish in that particular pond. The Ministry would need a lot of time and manpower to get to all of them. After that the messages became less frequent, the two men sharing some general knowledge about new spells, hexes and potions to be used against the Dark Arts.

Harry had come to some sort of terms with what he had done to Draco as well, although Harry guessed that the fact that Draco had not spilled the whole mission (more particularly their not-so-mission-related discussions) to the press also had something to do with it. He considered Draco a friend, if a bit of an odd one and this fact proved that much. But he had been lying to himself…

Lying about the fact that he did (not) want to see Draco. Lying about the fact that Malfoy had become Draco. Lying about the fact that the one incident where he had given in would remain the only one. Lying about the fact that he did not want to storm into Draco's office at Hogwarts and f…

"Okay," Harry said, a slight edge to his own voice. "I think I need to be going."

"Going? It's barely two o'clock."

"Well, Kingsley has not dropped in here yet, so I think I can go check whether professor Malfoy is up for some lectures on history in his Defence against the Dark Arts lessons."

Ron looked Harry over quizzically, but then shrugged and turned back to his paper work.

"Come over for dinner tonight?"

"Depends," said Harry. "How are you getting along today?"

"Harry!"

"Sorry, sorry," the Head Auror said, without a tone of regret to his voice. "Of course I'll come over. Sevenish?"

"Sounds good."

Harry had not quite known why he was so unkind to Ron, but perhaps it annoyed him to see how two people who got along fine were making things infinitely complicated. Life could be easier, he thought, if people would just… now and then… say what was on their mind. Ron and Hermione loved each other dearly, yet were incapable of settling down in what Harry thought would be a blissfully pleasant relationship. Or maybe he was still too romantic by nature; the Gryffindor shook his head at his own naivety.

***

Hogwarts welcomed him like an adult's old bedroom in his parental house would, including every good and bad memory that is triggered at the sight of details. Instantly pleased with his decision to come here, Harry beamed at nothing in particular. He still had that insanely content look on his face, when he walked into the halls of Hogwarts. For some reason he had not informed anyone, except Ron, of his decision to come here and since all students had class at the moment, no one noticed his arrival.

***

Except for Draco Malfoy, who got a little alarm sound from the huge map behind his back, as Harry Potter entered the walls of Hogwarts. Raising an eyebrow without looking over his shoulder, Draco wondered what on earth had kept the Golden Boy so long from giving in.


	22. In Draco's Office

Harry strolled through the halls of his old school, feeling a tinge of regret at how his youth had passed. Right now, there were students at Hogwarts who had the luxury of having a carefree academic career. The new generation had time for mischief instead of war, little harmless secrets instead of big lethal ones, and fun times with casual friends instead of worrying over losing loved ones. Hogwarts was still and would always remain a home for Harry, but he realised his youth here had been nothing short of exceptional.

His feet slowly but steadily carried him to the dungeons and Draco's office. To his surprise the door was slightly ajar, which was nothing like the Slytherin, not even if he was present. Curiously, Harry let his fingertips touch the wooden door lightly, giving it a little nudge. Everything inside the office screamed presence: papers and pen lying on the desk, lights dancing through the room and a cloak draped neatly over the back of a seat. Draco, however, was nowhere to be seen, and Harry felt an odd lurch of suspicion.

_Had something happened? No_, he chided himself. _Don't be daft. He's probably just out for a few minutes…_

Quietly Harry walked inside, deciding it was best to wait for Draco's return. Perhaps he could mull a bit over what he was doing and still bail out. Intrigued the Gryffindor walked behind Draco's desk and studied the enlarged version of what he presumed was the Marauder's Map, or at least something very similar to it. The name indications differed from the original, Harry noticed, personnel being marked in bold letters with a brown frame. He saw Mr Filch and Madame Pomfrey. Minerva suddenly appeared in the hallway, near the Headmistress' office, and her name was in bold, slightly bigger letters with a bright red frame. His own name had a purple font behind it, which was, so he presumed, the indication for visitors. Strangely, however, Draco's name was nowhere to be seen. Had he, after all, left his office open for intruders? It would be utterly unlike the Slytherin, but on the other hand Hogwarts was safe (now) and the students were in their classes. Even if someone walked in uncalled for, Harry doubted they would not set off some sort of alarm. Come to think of it, he thought to himself, why had there been no alarm when he walked in; uninvited? Harry frowned at the map, not really studying it anymore, his gaze going inward, reeled in by the questions. Was it even healthy to consider another man's actions to this point?

"Potter?"

The familiar voice sounded deeper than usual, with a definite edge of surprise to it; an edge Harry had never expected to hear from Draco's lips.

_Don't. Don't think about his lips._

Gathering his strength, and wondering what had come over him, he turned to face the blonde.

And was captivated by the sight before him.

Draco had a small towel, wrapped lazily around his head and was drying his wet, now longer hairs. Through the movement of the soft fabric, his grey eyes looked at Harry. The Gryffindor however was too fascinated to notice, his eyes drinking in the view.

Since the mission, Draco had apparently developed a taste for sunlight, his skin no longer its flawless paleness, but now a gorgeous light tan. The blonde was clad in boxers and an impeccably white shirt. Said shirt was unbuttoned and clung ever so slightly to Draco's still damp body. Harry tried not to swallow too obviously.

"Potter," Draco smirked, his move obviously a success. "You're staring."

With a dreadfully evident uncomfortable yelp, Harry turned on his heels, averting his eyes, feeling a terrible colour rise to his cheeks and elsewhere.

"S… Sorry," he stuttered, cursing his own unreliable voice.

To his horror, he heard Draco's bare feet pad into the office.

"No harm done, I daresay," the Slytherin said, scarily cheerful for his own doing. "We spent numerous times in the shower after Quidditch matches. Granted, there were more people in the room and less clothes, but that should not be a problem now, should it?"

"Ehm… Yes, I mean, no, of course not. I…"

Harry practically glued his eyes to the map again. "I… just noticed how your name doesn't appear on the map."

Even to his own ears, it sounded terribly lame. Draco, surprisingly, picked up on it.

"Well, of course," he said, amusement palpable in his voice. "I know when I'm in my office, don't I? And no one else needs to know of my whereabouts, especially not when they come into my office when I'm not around."

"Yeah," Harry replied, his nose inches from the parchment. "Sorry about that. I should have owled you."

There came no answer, and all Harry heard that betrayed Draco was still present was the continuous gentle brushing of a towel on wet hair.

"Potter," Draco said in a curious, indeterminable tone, making Harry's hairs rise mountainously. "Turn around."

"Are you decent?"

"As decent as I'll ever be," the other taunted. "Don't make me pick up on our last face-to-face subject."

Harry stubbornly frowned and felt a pang of rage battle with his discomfort. His discomfort won.

"Harry…"

The name did the trick. Draco had of course known this would work. Slowly, the Gryffindor Golden Boy turned round and faced his nightmare, although wet dream would, at any given moment, have been more apt. He knew Draco had the upper hand right now, though he was unsure over _what_ exactly, but was determined not to allow that to remain. Therefore, he ignored the mixture of amusement and knowledge in Draco's silver eyes, as well as the ever-present smirk, and spoke, before the Slytherin could.

"I do believe that is the first time in forever you called me by my first name."

"There are first times for everything, _Potter_. You, of all people, should realise that."

Finally, the blonde stopped drying his hair and let the towel hang in his neck. The shirt hung off one shoulder, paradoxically covering more of Draco's chest than Harry appreciated. It created an aura of illusion he could well do without. Instead he focused on Draco's face.

_Bad idea_, he thought as the silver eyes locked onto his.

"What brings you to Hogwarts and my office, no less?"

To his pleasure, Harry noticed that the usual animosity was gone. Perhaps their friendly tone in the letters had been more than just etiquette. There was teasing in his statement, no hostility. Yet it put the dark-haired man on his defences even more. Things were shifting and he was unsure whether they were doing so in his favour.


	23. Believe My Lies

"I wanted to propose something to you," Harry said, shaking his head at his own doubts.

Draco kept his face in line. Instead of labouring an obvious point, he walked over to one of the cabinets, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of pumpkinjuice. He waved a hand at Harry to continue, before returning and handing a glass to Harry, who gratefully clutched onto it as if it were his last lifeline.

"I would love to… I mean, I would not mind… If you didn't mind it, of course…"

Draco's eyebrows rose higher and higher, as Harry kept stumbling over his words. He nearly bit his tongue in frustration. _Does he have to keep walking around half naked?!_

"If you need some lectures about Voldemort in your Defence against the Dark Arts classes, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

"Ah," Draco said as delicately as possible. After a short silence, "I was wondering when you would suggest it."

"Well, I… What?"

"You heard me."

"If you _wanted_ me to lecture, why didn't you ever ask me?"

"Oh, come on, Potter. Think before you speak."

Harry balked at the slight insult, but considered it for a second.

"Granted," he said finally, not making explicit his conclusion. "But how about now?"

"What caused this sudden proposition?"

Harry shrugged, relaxing a bit at the casualness of their interaction.

"I've been getting quite a lot of cases on young wizards and witches dabbling in the Dark Arts. It seemed prudent that new generations be informed."

"Who else better to inform them than the Boy-Who-Lived? Twice, even."

Harry searched the words for any sign of sarcasm or anger, but seemed to find none. Nonplussed he just looked at the barely dressed Slytherin.

"Shouldn't you… you know, get dressed?"

"Still uncomfortable, eh, Potter?"

For a second, the Gryffindor thought Draco might just stay put, but he got up, threw a strange look at Harry and went back into his own quarters, aware or unaware of Harry's eyes lingering on his backside. Harry had never noticed that door before, seeing it close on him, when Severus had still occupied the office, but then again he did not deem it impossible Draco had additional quarters installed just for his own leisure.

He relaxed muscles he didn't realise were tense and took a big gulp from the pumpkinjuice, wishing it were something stronger. Only ten minutes later, Draco re-appeared, dressed in the same white, now buttoned shirt and black pants (which Harry vaguely remembered from their mission, recognising the leather laces). He was still barefooted.

"I never knew there were private rooms behind this office."

"There weren't."

"Thought as much," Harry grinned.

"A man of my statute needs some luxury," Draco said seriously.

Harry wisely kept his mouth shut, but his eyes betrayed merriment.

"I say you have good reason to be here," Draco suddenly said in a rather business-like tone. "Your job does require some form of awareness-raising with generations to come. Frankly, I think you should have come sooner, but it is your job, so your choice as well. You can lecture in my classes, starting next week. I have no classes today, and it is Friday after all."

"Great," Harry smiled. "That gives me some time to prepare, so we can discuss what I'll be teaching."

Draco nodded. "Let's go for a walk. I have been locked up in here long enough."

A bit surprised at the suggestion, Harry replied before his brain could find an excuse. "Is there anywhere in particular you need to go?"

"Not for a few hours," the blonde said.

With a swift flick of his wrists, the Slytherin draped his cloak around his shoulders. Harry noticed that the cloak was too big for Draco, which made the blonde look a bit vulnerable. With sudden realisation the black-haired man knew that cloak had once belonged to Lucius. He masked his feelings by heading for the door and holding it open for the blonde, hiding his sympathy.

"My, my gentleman," Draco drawled, purposely using the right kind of intonation.

They fell into pace next to each other and headed down the dark corridors of the Slytherin dungeons. Harry suddenly remembered.

"Is there a reason your door was ajar?"

"What?"

"The door to your office," Harry said. "It was open, which seemed sort of unusual for your doing."

"So it is," Draco affirmed. "It seems I need to catch up on my sleep. I am getting careless."

"Vigilance," Harry whispered without realising.

"Mad-Eye."

"How do you know?" Harry's head snapped up.

"Potter, Snape was my godfather." There was a tinge of the usual annoyance in Draco's voice, but that was not unusual. Harry often forgot the bond Severus and the Malfoys had shared. They walked on in silence, exiting the castle.

"And what do you mean; catch up on your sleep? That busy lately?"

He had not meant to make it sound odd, but somehow it did. Draco made no effort to hide his glee at Harry's fickle remark.

"Obviously, or I would not say that, now would I? Yes, my life has been quite hectic these last months. There is a rather big event coming up in the fashion business."

"Really," Harry asked, completely at a loss, his eyes searching the sky above for nothing in particular. Fashion had never interested him.

"Hmm," Draco confirmed, a sly eye on his walking companion. "Speaking of which, I might ask a favour in return."

Harry stopped walking for a second, suspiciously eyeing the dark billowing mass of cloak that was Draco.

"I do not remember asking you a favour," he called after him, before trotting up to the platinum haired man again.

"You don't? Not too long ago, in my office, you asked me whether I would allow you to lecture in my classes."

"That's not a favour for me. I'd be doing you a favour, augmenting the quality of your lessons!"

Draco now openly looked at Harry, a smile tugging at his lips.

"No," he said definitely. "You were the one coming here and asking me for permission. Once again, I think you are right in doing so. These dunderheads need to be educated decently, and hearing firsthand about Voldemort might kick some sense into the thicker heads."

"You sound like Snape."

"Again, Potter," Draco said, a meaningful look in his eyes.

"I know, I know."

They walked past the Whomping Willow.

"Fine, let's say you did me a favour. What do you want in return," Harry huffed; slightly annoyed at the obvious Slytherin trap he'd stepped into.

"I would like you to join me to that event," Draco said.

"What kind of event," the Gryffindor asked warily.

"Finally you learn, Potter," Draco smiled, his usual calculated look returning to his silver eyes. "Nothing too big though. Just an event for my fashion business."

The raven-haired man stopped in his tracks once again.

"This is a joke, right?"

"I thought you said you didn't like my sense of humour, so I decided not to kid you anymore."

Harry snorted noticeably, following in Draco's trail. Actually he had no idea where they were headed.

"That would be a first," Harry said. "You've never listened to anything I asked of you before. But," he quickly went on, before the blonde could react. "Why do you want me to join?"

"Because I might actually succeed at teaching you a thing or two about fashion, Potter. You are in dire need of a fashion advisor."

"I am _not_."

"Don't start the yes/no game with me, Potter," Draco grinned, flashing his canines. "You'd loose in the end. Just take my word for it."

"For what?"

"All of it. The fashion advisor, the yes/no game."

"Honestly, Draco, you're tiring. I did not come here for this."

"That might very well be, but the fact of the matter remains that it is you who sought out me, and not the other way around."

Harry grabbed hold of Draco's hand, somewhat roughly.

"You have just been waiting for me to return, haven't you?"

For a split second the Slytherin was caught off guard, for he had not anticipated the Gryffindor to catch on so quickly, but he regained his control fast enough and pulled out of Harry's grip. Perhaps fast enough to fool Harry…

"Don't be daft," he drawled, a slight crease to his brows. "I am merely asking something in return for the favour you asked of me."

"Which means you want to be seen with me, on a public event of your own private business, no less. I cannot help but be somewhat sceptical."

Draco's eyebrows rose at Harry's suggestive tone.

"No offence, Draco, but this is lame for a Slytherin. I might have walked into the whole I-did-you-a-favour-trap, but I am _not_ buying this. It's insulting."

Harry felt his heart lurch at his own words. Both men had stopped walking and stood facing each other in the middle of nowhere. In the distance the Whomping Willow seemed to overlook the scene with mild interest, shaking a few branches at the Gryffindor's raising voice.

"Forget I asked, Potter," Draco said dismissively, using his best authoritative voice, normally used on house-elves. "If you insist on seeing more into it than there really is, you ought to find yourself a hobby other than seek out my company."

"That does it," Harry growled, grabbing Draco by the upper arm. "For starters, you seemed damn pleased to see me in your office and you performed one hell of a show as well. Secondly, if you were truly so opposed to _my_ company, you would have declined my offer instead of accepting it. Thirdly, you are lying your ass off and…"

"Why won't you believe my lies, Potter?"

There was no hurt or vulnerability in Draco's voice, only anger.

_You're crazy to put your heart into the hands of a Slytherin_.

"I never believed any of your lies, Draco. Why should I start now?"


	24. Consciousness

Draco's eyes burned with fury, but Harry did not recoil. The blonde realised the Gryffindor saw through him, at least to some extent, and wondered when the hell the tables had turned? It had started as a game to taunt a closeted Potter, yet now Draco found himself at the other end.

Well, he'd be damned if he would let things stay that way. He wasn't closeted anyway. Without warning, the Slytherin Prince took one small step forwards and closed the distance between himself and the Gryffindor Golden Boy. When their lips gently met, it seemed as if the Wizarding World sighed with them. Harry practically went limp, when Draco closed his arms around him, wrapping the Gryffindor in his dark robes.

Experiencing this while Draco cooperated (or rather took the lead) was a whole different thing than kissing him while the platinum blonde had been delirious. Harry breathed Draco's clean scent in through his nose, and felt warm lips demand his surrender. Groaning softly, he parted his own and felt Draco invade his mouth once again. The blonde was insistent, demanding yet surprisingly gentle, his tongue flicking over Harry's lips teasingly before entangling with Harry's. This treatment instantly sent the right kind of signals to the wrong kind of body parts, but Harry felt too enveloped to hide it. One hand snaked its way up over Harry's back, intertwining with his messy hair. It took all of Harry's willpower not to sink through his knees and into Draco's arms.

When they parted, the Slytherin's eyes were clouded.

"At least now you know what it feels like when I'm awake."

Harry closed his eyes at those words, wishing for all the world that there was a black hole he could sink into and vanish. Seeing that was no option, he prepared to Disapparate on the spot. Demanding clarity from Draco had been idiotic to say the least, and had left him as shaky on his legs as a virgin.

"I'll see you in my classes next week. We will discuss the event and what you need to wear during class breaks."

With those words, Draco Disapparated before Harry could, leaving the Gryffindor hero somewhat baffled, slightly humiliated and terribly horny.


	25. A Comparison: Draco versus Voldemort

That evening, Harry was terrible company for Ron and Hermione. His mind kept going over and over and over the kiss he had shared with Draco, but especially over the knowing words that had been spoken. He had never meant to question Draco's motives, but his brain has short-circuited again, leaving his mouth to do all the work. He knew that whenever that happened, it usually ended in disaster. In his opinion, so it had this time, despite the fact that remembering the kiss made his heart flip-flop.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Startled, the black-haired man let his gaze zoom from infinity to the person opposite of him. Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"I'm fine, Herm, thanks," he said, smiling weakly.

"That's right," Ron said, with his usual cluelessness, yet typical lack of sensitivity. "How was your visit to Hogwarts? Did the git agree to let you lecture?"

"Which git," Hermione asked darkly, with an interested look at Harry.

"Malfoy."

"Draco."

"Since when has he become Draco?!"

"Ron, please," Hermione sighed, before turning her attention to Harry completely. "How did it go?"

"Quite well," Harry said, smiling despite of himself. "He agreed, saying it was a splendid idea and that I should have come to see him about that a lot earlier."

"Are you serious?" the brightest-witch-of-her-age asked, looking genuinely happy.

"Deadly serious."

"Well, great," Ron amended, his mouth full. "Finally the guy's showing some brains. You'd be a thousand times better at teaching Defence against the Dark Arts anyway."

"I would not know about that," Harry said, pondering. "Draco did get more practice in that area, more than we ever did, be it unwillingly or not."

Finally, the redhead seemed to catch on that something was slightly amiss.

"What on earth are you talking about? You talk as if Malfoy never meant to do wrong, never meant to harm anyone… He tried to kill us."

"That was Crabbe, not Draco," Hermione protested.

"Ron," Harry said, somewhat annoyed. "I wish you would leave things for what they are. I did too. Finally."

Harry quickly exchanged a glance with Hermione, something that was not lost on Ron, who frowned.

"What are you two hiding?"

"Nothing!" they exclaimed in unison.

"Right," Ron grinned. "Come on, guys."

"At the moment, I think it's better we do not meddle in this, Ron."

"What do you mean 'we'? Clearly you know what's going on," Ron grunted at Hermione, stabbing at his food as if it was still alive.

"She does not know what is going on," Harry said, covering for Hermione. "As usual, she might have a good guess, but she does not know. Not exactly."

He wasn't lying. Hermione had no idea what had happened earlier that day, nor that Harry had managed to rattle the snake's cage.

"Yeah, well," Ron said, his tone overtly dubious. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I have no soddin' clue," Harry snickered, feeling a bit hysterical now that he said it out loud.

Hermione patted his hand gently, making him think of Minerva in one of her rare affectionate moods. "You'll do fine. I think you rarely had a real clue of what you were doing, while we were at Hogwarts and everything turned out fine."

"You might be right. There was only one moment when I was fully conscious of what I was doing, preparation, execution and goal all considered."

Harry scratched at his hair, remembering the moment when things had become crystal-clear to him; that he had to sacrifice himself, throw himself at Voldemort's mercy to die. One life in exchange for a thousand others.

This situation with Draco could not be worse than that, could it?

Right.

Then why did it feel a thousand times more difficult?

_Perhaps because you do not expect to die now, and know you have to live with the consequences?_

Right…


	26. Owling

Last week, Harry had lectured in Draco's classes, which had been somewhat unsettling. Since their last encounter in the fields outside Hogwarts, the two men had once again resorted to communicating via owls. Harry felt fairly safe, not having to face the blonde and become distracted by what those lips could do or say to him. Consequently, the word 'Malfoy' returned to his dictionary, at least for a very short while.

____________

_Potter,_

_Prepare those classes decently. I will not have a Gryffindor make a fool out of the (DA)DA classes. I suggest you start off with pooling the students' knowledge about the whole Dark Lord bit. Depending on how well the dunderheads perform, we can see where to take it from there on._

_Ever so kind greetings,_

_DM._

_Malfoy,_

"_The whole Dark Lord bit" as you call it is a rather gigantic part of history to be dealt with. Opposed to what you might expect of me, I was already ahead of you in that department. And just for the record, both the previous and current Headmaster of Hogwarts are of Gryffindor House. I do not think you need to worry about your (DA)DA classes being ruined by one._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter._

_Potter,_

_The only reason McGonagall is Head of Hogwarts is because all the other good candidates are dead. Considering what Snape did for the Wizarding World, he ought to be in that chair. Your former Head of House was nothing but a leftover, which in no way says anything about her qualifications for the job._

_Could you be more specific about "ahead of you"? What will you deal with? In what order? Are there handouts needed? Where do students need to participate? When do they need to take notes? Etc., etc._

_Kindly,_

_DM._

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_I will cease this badgering here, because it is, frankly, getting us nowhere. Clearly, our last encounter has left you somewhat confused, perhaps even pissed off. Considering our past, I would think both of us professional enough to let it go. Call it a bad game gone wrong, shall we?_

_Apart from that, I plan to ask them general questions at first: Who is Voldemort?; What does he stand for?; When did he live and die?; Who were his most important contemporaries?; When were the two wars?; Who were his allies and enemies?; What caused his downfall?; and so on. According to their answers, I will create a scheme in the air (so I'm easily able to move around answers). During this part of the lesson, they will not need to write anything down. I suppose this could already fill an hour, especially if I start asking people's opinion on different actions of different 'players' in the tale._

_Kindly yours,_

_Harry J. Potter._

_Since when are you mine, Green-Eyes?_

_DM._

____________

Harry had not bothered replying to that one, though the nickname 'Green-Eyes' had left him smiling like an idiot for the rest of the day. Somehow since their mission, Draco had become a lot less predictable. If Harry did not know any better, he would have thought the Slytherin had a crush on or some kind of 'thing' for him. Yet, being the modest Gryffindor that he was, the Boy-Who-Lived refused to accept that simple explanation. Occam's razor was lost on him. Besides, if he were to take Hermione's advice of messing around with Malfoy in order to 'deal with _it_', it was probably best not to get too involved and not to look too deep into Draco's behaviour.

Which was easier said than done. Neither of them mentioned their last 'encounter', as Harry had dubbed it in his letter. Yet both of them felt odd in each other's company. The first week of classes had worked out splendidly for the students, who all seemed to take a shine to "Professor Potter".


	27. Pansy Parkinson's Wise Words and Fashion

Sorry for the delay, everyone. I hope you haven't given up on this story in the meantime. It's just been quite busy in real life and this slipped through my fingers. If it's any consolation, I have the next... oh... ten odd chapters ready to go.

Enjoy!

~ Anvan

What teachers rarely realise is that students often have a sixth sense, when it comes to sexuality. Homosexual teenagers are quite good at pinpointing homosexual teachers. Professor Malfoy had been a tough cookie, and opinions about his sexuality were still divided. Yet most of the students unanimously agreed about Harry Potter.

Draco had quite the keen eye for vaguely oriented teenagers himself, echoing his own experiments at Hogwarts. It was therefore with no little annoyance that he noticed one openly gay student draw Harry's attention. Although Draco was quite sure Harry would never indulge in such a bond, it pissed him off to watch them interact. What annoyed the Slytherin off even more was the fact that it pissed him off.

One evening he had, against his better judgement and any kind of common sense, even called on Pansy to talk to her.

"_Oh, jeez, Drakey, just shag the man senseless once and you'll get over it."_

"_Pans, it's Harry Guilt-tripping Potter. Do you honestly expect me to a) get him so far as to let me shag him and b) prevent him from killing himself the day after or whining my head off with his apologies and complaints?"_

"_I thought you could get anyone so far as to let you shag them?"_

"_I can," Draco said coolly. "But that's not the point."_

"_Then what is?" she asked smugly._

"_I don't know. He seems to want to be near me, he can't keep his eyes off me and… I'll kill you if you leak this to the press, but I don't mind having him around. Too much. Things between him and me are shifting and neither of us knows where they are headed. It's annoying. Sometimes I think I liked it better when I could just annoy the hell out of him and be done with it."_

"_You still can," she pointed out. "But that might not be the ultimate goal here. Look, you're quite certain that he's gay?"_

"_Quite. If not, he's doing a damn good impression of a straight man in his belated experimental phase. With his former arch-nemesis, no less. No, the man swings my way."_

_Pansy laughed out loud. "You were able to make anyone fall for you once. Why has Potter made you loose your touch? Just get back in the game."_

"_It isn't a game," Draco said exasperatedly. "That's what you don't want to understand. I'm not out for humiliation or destruction. I'm not even intent on making him see the light," he added sarcastically._

"_Oh dear…"_

"_What?"_

"_You want him."_

_Draco wished for all the universe that he could have answered that line with his patented sneer-and-insult._

_But he could not. Slowly he raised his hands and buried his face in them. Pansy's smile left her face and she looked genuinely caring._

"_I think… I'm afraid you're right, Pans."_

_His ex-girlfriend just sighed in response. She stared at Draco's hunched over form. After a long while, when the sound of the snapping fire had become noticeable, she spoke again._

"_So things are shifting, Draco. It's not as if you haven't been in such a position before."_

_The blonde lowered his hands slightly, letting his fingers cover his mouth and resting his chin in his palms. His grey eyes burned in the light of the fire._

"_This is a mighty huge shift, Pans."_

"_So was switching sides with the Dark Lord," she commented dryly. "Don't tell me this is worse. It's only Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Beat-The-Dark-Lord."_

_Draco actually laughed at this._

His lips unconsciously formed the same smile, while remembering her remark. He had to find his ground again. Once the Malfoy heir found his ground again, Harry stood no chance.

"I cannot believe you talked me into this," Harry complained. They were in one of many stores in Paris, which the Malfoy fashion line owned.

"I did not talk you into anything," Draco said calmly, never taking his eyes off the magazine he was reading.

He would _not_ look up until Harry was ready.

He was _not_ eager to see the result.

"Draco, if you've got me trying on outfits, could you at least have the decency to look at me when I come out of the dressing cubicle?"

Smirking, Draco looked up from the magazine, the remainder of a critical thought still lingering. That same thought was blown to pieces at the sight of Harry. He clenched his jaw to prevent himself from gaping.

It was as if he saw Harry for the first time. Draco had picked out the ensemble, of course. Every piece in his lines had been designed by Draco, and he knew damn well what suited a certain type of body and what did not. That impeccable instinct had made him choose pieces that brought about the best in Harry's lean figure.

Harry's hair was dark, while his eyes were bright green and his complexion tanned, so Draco had quite the array of colours to choose from. In this particular case he had chosen a taupe pair of pants, tight in the right areas, with bootcut legs; topped off with a winter white shirt, cut in at the waist. Its buttons never did reach all the way to the neck, leaving Harry's collar bones free for eyes to feast upon.

"I know I have good taste," he commented before he could help it. "But damn, Potter, you look hot."

The Head Auror instantly flushed, but he remained standing in his position, awaiting further comments.

"Take the lot," Draco said, hoping he could trust his voice.

It seemed to pull Harry out of state of tension, and he turned, eyeing himself in the mirror. Then he gingerly reached for the price tag.

"Holy crap! Malfoy, this is an outrage! How do you justify charging these amounts, while living at Malfoy Manor?"

Draco looked cross, but decided not to explain a thing or two to Harry. Instead he locked his hand under Harry's elbow and guided him to the cash register.

"Never you mind the price," he said softly, leaning into the man. "My treat. You could use something decent in your closet. Miss, cut the tags off these items and charge them to my bill, please."

"You actually pay for your own clothes?"

"In this case, yes. Consider them repayment for the event."

"I thought I was doing you a favour in return for the favour you did me."

"Stop trying to outsmart me, Potter," Draco smiled, not even attempting to fight Harry anymore. "You'll thank me for the outfit, once we arrive. Oh," he said, grabbing a chestnut brown waisted jacket, throwing a quick glance at the size and putting it on the counter. "Add this."

"You're an impossible man."

Draco made a disturbingly playful tsk-ing noise. "I just want to make sure we look good tonight."

"You always look good," Harry pointed out seriously.

Draco just looked him over curiously for a second. Oh, he needed to make a move tonight. A _physical_ move. Something that involved alcohol, perhaps, to diminish any possible inhibitions. But he needed to get his hands on Harry Potter.


	28. Paris Fashion Week

Thanks for all the favourite Author/Story adds, people, as well as the reviews. It's nice to know this story is being appreciated. Constructive criticism is always appreciated too!

Enjoy.

~ Anvan

They were sitting in a limousine. Draco intentionally allowed his knee to touch with Harry's several times, and each time the Gryffindor twisted himself out of the sensation, he managed to let other body parts touch. An arm draped over the edge of the back seat, his hand faintly brushing Harry's hair. Eventually, after numerous failed attempts at escape, and the umpteenth time fingers were brushing against his wrist, Harry just sighed – contently? - and let it be. Draco smiled at his own reflection in the window.

His own outfit subtly added to Harry's. Draco wore a winter white pin-striped suit. Colour was added by the chestnut brown shirt, showing at his sleeves and chest. A bright blue silk scarf accentuated Draco's slender neck.

"Paris Fashion Week," Harry finally said. "That's what you call something… what was it… nothing 'too big'? Holy hell, Draco, I'll be surrounded by the fine fleur of society."

"The what now?"

Harry turned towards his companion… and hesitated. "These are the kind of people I usually don't deal with. What possessed you to ask me…?" _Out_, he had nearly said, but instead just left the sentence hanging.

The limousine came to a halt and within seconds, the door on Draco's side was opened. Draco smiled ferociously, put one leg out of the car and waited long enough for everyone outside to notice. Then he ducked his head slightly and stepped out. Harry heard the applause and saw flashes of cameras. Then Draco's head reappeared in the door and the Slytherin extended a beckoning hand.

"To show you off, of course," he smirked.

Baffled, Harry put his hand in Draco's and stepped into a world of flashing light, beautiful people and praise. Draco held his hand, while they walked up to the gigantic mass of tents, where the event took place, and Harry felt him gently rub the palm of his hand. Ridiculously, the Gryffindor felt content and not in the slightest bothered by all the cameras. This was the Muggle world anyway. No one in the Wizarding World had to know.

_And even if they did, I don't think I care_.

Draco actually waved at the many people, but never did lose sight of Harry next to him. Gently he let go of the Auror's hand and was rewarded with a slightly disappointed frown, before draping his arm around Harry's waist.

The event itself was not so interesting, at least not to Harry. Sure, he was surrounded by particularly beautiful people in stunning outfits, many of whom were quite unable to keep their hands to themselves. More than once, Harry had the impression Draco was using his own body as a shield to keep others away from the Gryffindor's body.

"I honestly can't wait for the after party," Draco murmured at one point, close to Harry's ear, while signalling someone to refill Harry's glass with champagne.

"No," Harry protested, feeling the bubbles in his head. "No more alcohol, please." He smiled at Draco. "Please?"

"My party," the Slytherin Prince smiled back, his silver eyes filling Harry's vision. "You will drink, Harry."

Almost drowning in his glass, Harry took sips to escape those eyes. "What was that after party you mentioned?"


	29. Kowaku

"Oh, jeez, Draco, this kind of luxury balled into one place should be illegal for one man to have," Harry sighed, sinking deeper into the whirlpool. "As are those models you have."

"Excuse me?" Draco asked delicately, but Harry sank beneath the water surface.

_Well, this is certainly working out nicely. I don't think I have ever seen the Golden Boy so relaxed__._

Draco looked up when the doors to his private after-party chambers opened and smiled wickedly. There she was. His little scheme.

"Ah, Kowaku, you arrived."

Harry was suddenly intrigued by the warm tone in Draco's voice, wondering who on earth could have triggered it. Annoyed at the fact that such a person even existed he turned slightly to find the newcomer. His eyes widened in horror when he saw the mirroring image of Draco.

"Potter, meet my sister."

_Sister? Oh, my, yes…_His green eyes lowered not very subtly._ Sister._

"I didn't know you had a sister," he said, his voice cracking halfway.

"There are lots of things you do not know about my brother, Harry," Kowaku smiled viciously.

_Good grief, even her voice is reminiscent of his._

The woman walked up to the whirlpool, exposing long legs with every step she took, a light dress fluttering delicately around her. Her hair was, paradoxically, shorter than Draco's, cut into a fashionable model. Her whole countenance mimicked that of a cheetah.

"I trust you brought friends?"

"Of course, they are just behind me. You know I love to make an entrance."

"Clearly a Malfoy," Harry said, before he could bite his tongue.

"Yes," the woman smiled brightly. "Clearly."

"Mind your manners around my sister, Potter."

Kowaku tsk-ed at her brother, waving a pale hand and then dropped the dress she had been wearing. Instantly Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the side of the whirlpool, hoping it looked like someone who was relaxing rather than panicking.

One Malfoy he might be able to handle, but two? He silently cursed Narcissa and Lucius for having such exquisite children. Next thing he knew two soft legs curled around his arms and he opened his eyes. Kowako and the ceiling was all he saw.

"What is this?"

Kowaku looked down at him sceptically. "A woman." Harry was mesmerised by her face. She looked so marvellously like Draco that he could not take his eyes off her. Kowaku seemed not to be bothered by it, but the little smirk she exchanged with her brother was lost on the Boy-Who-Saw-Double.

"Is she your twin?" Harry did not recognise his own voice. Kowaku did not reply, but put her hands on his shoulders and started massaging soft spots he did not know he had. A groan spilled off his lips.

"Lord, no," Draco said, amusement evident in his voice. "She is my older sister."

Harry closed his eyes again, relaxing into her treatment.

"How come I never saw her at Hogwarts?"

"Because she has no magic in her."

Harry opened his eyes again, to find Kowaku still looking at him, continuing her onslaught. _A Squibb…_

"Her eyes are not silver like yours."

"My, my," Kowaku said in an indefinable tone.

"Don't," he heard Draco say warningly.

"I won't," she said innocently.

"Won't what?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," the two blondes said in unison, clearly in control of the situation.

_I'm in over my head…_

Finally the door opened again and Kowaku's friends walked in. Harry counted six people joining them, some in the whirlpool, while others went for the bar. Music joined from out of nowhere.

"Then why were you never at the Manor?"

"Our parents thought it wise not to have Kowaku around in the Wizarding World."

"In fact," she spoke up. "I have been in the Muggle world my whole life. If I could not be of any use to the Malfoy family in the Wizarding World, I might as well make myself known in this one."

"Oh," Harry said dumbly. "Then what do you do?"

Draco smirked. "You have the number one model of the world massaging your shoulders, Potter."

"Honestly," the Gryffindor sighed. "You guys cannot be average anywhere, can you?"

"You could say I paved the way for my brother."

"Why would _you_ want to be involved in the Muggle world?" Harry asked curiously, eyeing Draco. The blonde had an unreadable look in his eyes, observing Harry and Kowaku.

"We did not plan this ahead," Draco said, snapping his fingers at the bartender, who instantly brought a few cocktails. "Our parents just wanted Kowaku to have all possibilities laid out before her. In our world that would not have been possible."

"But then they made a few bad decisions," Kowaku added.

Harry bit his tongue, looked back at her and marvelled at her beauty.

"They actually made some fucked up decisions, Ko," Draco corrected her. "And they raised me to make the same fucked up decisions."

Harry did his best to play dead. Which was a hard feat with Kowaku's magical hands working on him. This was the first time he heard the blonde talk about his parents' decisions, especially in such a disapproving manner.

"You were right when you talked about me being too young at one point and too scared at another to change anything about our connection with the Dark Lord. So by the time we, as a family, royally fucked up, I was left with the shards of what was once a beautiful life."

Harry got a mental image of the younger Draco he had known, with literal pieces of his world shattered around him.

_Heart __wrenching…_

"Then my brother and I decided to work together to rebuild the Malfoy empire in both his and my world."

This time Harry could not help but blink and raise his head, eyeing brother and sister, before Kowaku skilfully pulled him back into her ministrations. He heard the unspoken words all too well. Kowaku's lack of magic had erased whichever doubts the Malfoys might have had after Voldemort's first downfall. Yet Malfoys being Malfoys they would not allow one of their children to be an outcast. So rather than hide an embarrassing feat, they left their beautiful girl in the Muggle world, knowing damn well they could perform the right spells to clear her path to fame and wealth.

Harry was not sure about the rest of his reasoning, but did not feel the need to pry the information out of Draco. At least not at this point. When Voldemort had been killed five years ago, Draco had been left with a destroyed empire: father jailed and mother in and out of depressions, the Malfoy name ruined. He knew the blonde well enough to know that the past five years had been spent clearing the Malfoy name and rebuilding the empire.

By the time Harry emerged from his thoughts, Draco was gone. He made an effort to rise from the water, but Kowaku practically dug her nails into his skin. He froze instantly.

"Kowaku, what..?"

"Stay put," she said, sounding an awful lot like Narcissa on a bad hair day. "I will check on my darling baby brother."

Harry sank back into the water, wondering if he had ever thought it possible someone referring to Draco as her 'darling baby brother'. It made him smile, knowing that, after all, Draco had not been alone. Then his clouded mind wondered why his swimming trunks were tight.

"Shit!"

Some of Kowaku's friends looked up at his exclamation. Had it not been for those eyes on him, Harry would have bolted for the door, out the building and the two blonde vixens' grip. Frustrated Harry squeezed the bridge of his nose, then groped for the glass he knew was not far from his reach and gulped it down. Perhaps he could forget everything? But even with his eyes closed he saw two exquisite faces before him, moulding into one.

"Draco," he breathed.


	30. Shifting Worlds

Harry heard wet feet return and was glad for Kowaku's legs sliding back behind him. Perhaps she could distract him from her brother, while at the same time…

_This is sick_. He remembered Hermione's advice: Deal with it.

_Not just yet. Just… Step by step._

Eagerly Harry let himself relax against Kowaku's hands. Whatever she was doing, Harry was seeing stars and for a second he wondered if they had lied to him about Kowaku being without magic. Then he figured he had not felt this relaxed in … perhaps years.

"Your brother is a remarkable man."

Women seemed to loosen Harry's tongue, when it came to men, but Draco's sister did not reply. Instead she gently urged him to lean forward. Harry looked at the water, the millions of bubbles created by the whirlpool, and the lights reflecting to all sides. He did not notice the other people leave. With a touch of alarm, Harry felt Kowaku dig her fingers into his hair, finding more weak spots. He could not hold back a groan.

Then a warm body slid behind him into the water. When she pushed their bodies back together and Harry missed some very feminine shapes, it dawned on him. He yelped and wanted to claw his way out of those tempting hands.

"Don't."

Something in Draco's low-voiced order – request perhaps - made Harry oblige. He threw a tentative look over his shoulder.

_Mesmerising_, Draco thought, upon seeing Harry's shy green eyes search his face.

The Slytherin's hands snaked around Harry's waist, flattened themselves onto his abdomen, causing the Gryffindor to breathe in sharply, and then pulled him back against Draco's chest. A sigh escaped Harry, and Draco merely waited for the Gryffindor to relax within his arms and adjust to the feeling of skin on skin.

_Unfamiliar. Warm. Soft._

Slowly Harry's brain calmed down to contemplate the moment. Draco put his hand slightly higher, over Harry's heart, to feel its pace slow. The blonde's instincts told him this was quite the feat for the raven-haired man. Had Draco already given Harry that much reason to trust him?

His patience was rewarded with a more audible sigh and Harry dipping his head backwards to rest it on Draco's shoulder, baring his neck. _Apparently_, the Slytherin thought slightly surprised as he ignored a pinch of disapproval. He rested his chin on Harry's shoulder, rubbing their cheeks together.

Water caused a form of zero gravity, so it was easy for Draco to lift Harry and position him decently in his lap, the bubbling of the whirlpool sneaking between them. The Gryffindor allowed his arms to float limply to the rim of the water, foamy bubbles gathering around them. Gently, Draco tickled the skin on those arms with his fingertips.

The light on Harry's darker skin was bewitching. Had Pansy seen the look in Draco's eyes, she would have told him he was in over his head. But no one was there to witness the tender moment between the Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Hero. A bit dazed Harry followed Draco's movements with his eyes, smiling whenever those fingers seemed to find something intriguing on his skin which Harry could not distinguish.

It was not until Draco touched an old still painful scar to the left of Harry's right clavicle that he arched up suddenly, barely holding back a cry of pain. Instantly Draco's hands rested on his shoulders, his silver eyes searching the body in front of him. Yet the moment had gone. Mumbling something, Harry turned slightly, creating some distance between them. Draco's hand snatched back out, touching the same spot gently, finding the scar and giving Harry a questioning look.

"A variation of the reducto spell. Circumstances prevented me from taking care of it immediately."

Draco frowned at the self-consciousness in Harry's voice. If he did not doze this fire, all might be ruined.

"You're very easy on the eyes regardless of any scars," he said, making Harry blush.

A moment of apprehension passed between them. An outsider might have thought this was a couple, on the brink of making up after a row. The dark-haired man looked hesitant, while the blonde seemed at ease, if somewhat expectantly. Perhaps the darker one had caused the row and the platinum blonde wanted him to make the first move.

In reality, Draco saw Harry's brain thinking over the possibilities. He could almost taste Harry's zeal for the choices… _The possibilities_. Perhaps the blonde even expected the look of determination on the other's face, because after all he _was_ a Gryffindor through and through. Yet, he never… never expected Harry to shift in the water, paddling closer slowly… Inching closer until it was impossible to ignore the emerald eyes… Opening his legs and straddling Draco, leaning over so closely the blonde had no other choice than to dip his head back or nuzzle Harry's chest. Deciding patience was what had gotten him in this delicious position in the first place, Draco rolled back his head until he touched the rim of the whirlpool. To prevent any groping Draco spread his arms on the edge awaiting Harry's next move…

He never expected Harry's hands resting so casually on his chest, fingers smoothly rubbing at his skin both in and out of the water. The feel of swimsuit on swimsuit irritated the blonde: the fabric was obsolete, if he were any judge. _Patience_, he breathed mentally. The view of Harry hovering over him was besides anything he had expected… The dark man removed his glasses and Draco watched his green eyes focus on his own face. The crinkle in Harry's nose was cute… _Cute…?_ The Slytherin felt his breathe hitch. Draco's lips formed questioning words, but his voice was out… Yet the movement drew Harry's attention to them. Smiling enigmatically, Harry slowly… ever so slowly… bent over, his green eyes drowning a Slytherin Prince who was definitely in over his head… the eyes fluttering shut a split second before their lips met… Cooperation. Mutual consent… If either of them had known the effect… _What missed opportunities… Such time wasted…_

Sensual did not cover what happened next. Not even close… Agonisingly slow, Harry tilted his head… tongue flickering over Draco's lips… Hips moving gently against the blonde's… Silver eyes flew open in wonder for a second, until they shut… contently… warmly… Harry's hands sliding up behind Draco's neck… Draco's tongue tracing the feel of Harry's mouth… the sensitive roof. Their fingers intertwined on Draco's chest - _When had that hand moved there?_ - feeling double rapid heart beats… The blonde's other hand rubbed over Harry's thigh, then rested at his lower back… pulling bodies closer… Harry moaned into Draco's mouth… Shooting stars seemed to fall inside the room before Draco's eyes… He found his voice back, some sort of corporeal oath spilling from his lips into Harry's mouth… Impossible not to feel the heat of Harry's cheeks… Silver eyes readjusted and saw a scarlet blush… _So easy to make you flustered… Had he said that out loud?_ He reached out for the sensual creature, buried his fingers into the mass of dark hair… _More…_ Pulling him back into another searing kiss…

Harry had not even known such oaths existed… Yet he was a physical being, which is why it was no small miracle that the feel of Draco's hand, the soft moan right before he pulled them back into an embrace, set the Gryffindor's body on fire… Harry's hands slipped under water across Draco's wet skin… Rewarded with a lascivious grin from the platinum-haired man in the kiss, Harry did his best to ignore… The amused lights in his green eyes betrayed him… _My heart seems stuck in a permanent flip-flop…_

The room got warmer by the second… Draco pulled his legs underneath him, stood firmly on the balls of his feet and without further warning lifted Harry, who clung around his waist, out of the water. The raven-haired man held on tight, staring at the blonde.

"At the risk of sounding like a desperate man with a dreadful pickup line… Have you been working out?"

"I don't sleep much," Draco smirked, at the same time performing a drying spell on the both of them. "Or often."

Harry frowned. _I'll have to do something about that…_

"Should we find somewhere more comfy then?" he asked instead.

"We definitely should," Draco said, gently putting Harry to his feet.

With a lazy wave of his hand, the Slytherin opened the doors to possibly the biggest bedroom Harry had seen in his life. Draco's fingers were on Harry's wrist, gently tugging him inside and not wanting to give him the time to take it all in. Instead, they wishfully tugged him closer to the bed… Harry paled considerably.

"Don't panic," Draco said, without turning around.

"How did you…"

"I'm a man of many talents."

"I'm sure."

They chuckled, but the feeling of amicability was quickly replaced with silent wonder and curiosity, when Draco sat down on the bed… His hand still held onto Harry's wrist, while its owner remained standing inches from the blonde. Their eyes drank in the view. Draco's muscles tensed and he pulled Harry closer, resting his hands flat on the Gryffindor's back. Almost in unison their lips found each other back.

It became a night of exploration… Silent incomprehensible whispers… Vague unspoken promises of _More_… The world kept turning… But theirs shifted unspeakably…


	31. First Name Basis

Harry was the first to wake up. Cracking open an eye, his head instantly felt cotton-balled. Yet his surroundings smelled fresh and clean, anything but the place for a morning after feeling. Where was he? Memory dawned upon him. His vision readjusted to the view in front of his nose.

A sleeping Draco Malfoy.

Harry heard himself whimper softly. _What had he done?_ But the next second, he felt that reaction to be inaccurate. He remembered… They had not done anything rash. Just…

_Oh gods… Merlin… Goddess… All in one heap… That face. That sensuality…_

Harry's pillow was Draco's biceps. There was probably no blood left in the blonde's fingers. Yet Harry did not want to move. A sleeping Draco was something he had never decently studied before. Perhaps it was the most exquisite thing he had seen… _No_, he said to himself, when the image of Draco's face underneath him in the whirlpool returned. The silver eyes had been captivating. Even further back he remembered the first time he had given in. The softness of Draco's hair, the pale handsome features. How often had he not replayed that kiss in his mind at night?

Now the silver eyes were closed. The man's breathing came evenly… his lips were slightly parted. Harry smelled sweet alcohol on the Slytherin's breath. Had they drunk too much? His own head did not feel like it would explode, but he did detect the familiar thirst after a night of _sufficient_ drinking. On impulse, he lifted the covers and rose from the bed, only to be yanked back by his hair. Automatically Harry felt annoyance bubble up and turned his gaze back to his bedfellow. Two silver eyes were looking at him hazily. Harry followed the arm. Draco's – probably numb – fingers were buried in his hair. He did not pull, but just… held on.

Overwhelmed by an untried feeling, Harry lowered himself back to the mattress. The blonde instantly let go of Harry's hair and crawled closer, snuggling into Harry's chest before closing his eyes again with a sigh. The Gryffindor was baffled. A sleep befuddled Draco was… adorable.

But adorable Slytherin Prince or not, Harry still felt thirsty. Yet he was a wizard, wasn't he.

_Accio bottle of water_.

Harry was sure he felt Draco smile against his skin, but refrained from reacting. Manoeuvring one hand underneath Draco, he positioned himself comfortably. When he was settled, he downed half the bottle. He put it on the nightstand and wrapped both arms around the drowsy blonde, nuzzling the platinum hair. It smelled of something familiar…

_How will this…_

_No questions. No questions…_ Harry drifted back off to the land of Nod, his body entangled with Draco's.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since Harry's first awakening. The curtains were tightly closed and no one would have thought about disturbing Draco in his private quarters. Except Kowaku.

The bed moved when a third weight added itself. Instantly the two wizards were awake. Silver and green eyes opened on instinct and two wands found their way to their owner, pointing at the intruder. Kowaku just giggled. Draco scowled at his sister.

"We could have hexed you."

"Your reflexes are impressive," Kowaku said to Harry.

"They have to be," Harry said, slightly less peeved than Draco, but still felt as if his privacy had been stomped upon, even if this wasn't his bedroom.

"You're in the Muggle world. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"What do you want, Ko?"

The woman looked at her brother crossly. Apparently she was not used to this kind of treatment.

"I just came to check on you," she huffed. "But I see you are in more than capable and eager hands."

Her blue eyes rested on Harry's non-wand arm still draped around Draco's waist. Harry blushed instantly, but Draco seemed content with her departure, even if it involved certain insinuations. _Well, they're true anyway…_

"Good, now be off with you," he said, snuggling back to his position before the brutal disturbance. "I'm putting up wards."

"Even against me?"

Had Harry not known any better, he would have thought she was the poor baby sister being scoffed by her evil bigger brother. Wisely he assumed the role of spectator.

"Yes, even against you," Draco muttered. "Now off, before I still hex you."

"God, you have a shitty morning temper!"

She stomped off angrily and somehow Harry was sure she took after her mother that way. He watched her leave, heard the doors slam shut and felt Draco's magic do its tricks. Then he looked down at his chest to find silver eyes looking at him. They were no longer drowsy.

"Weren't you a bit mean just now?"

"I thought I was doing you a favour getting my mirrored image out of here, before you could no longer contain yourself."

The Gryffindor glowered at the blonde.

"First off, I would not do anything to your sister. And secondly, yes, you did me a favour, because for some odd reason I felt… disturbed in my privacy."

Draco smiled.

"You have dimples," Harry said randomly.

"I do not."

"You do," Harry grinned. "And it's cute."

This got the Slytherin moving. Harry yelped as he was yanked down and pressed into the mattress by a warm, lean body, his hands pinned above his head. Draco's face hovered inches from his.

"Malfoys are never cute."

"Yes, they are," Harry laughed, unable to control himself. "Especially when they're sleepy or smiling. You should smile more often. It makes you look ten times more beautiful."

"What?"

The pressure on Harry's body diminished, but the dark-haired man felt no need to remove himself from the position. Draco did not fail to notice that. Surprised by the suddenly serious tone in Draco's voice, however, Harry snapped his mouth shut.

"Come on," the platinum blonde prodded. When Harry refused to reply, he made slight face. "Can you stand tickling?"

"Yes," Harry lied, unsure if he could order his muscles to tighten enough to ignore any tickling assault. Draco snorted softly, lowering his face to Harry's chest.

"Hey… What are you…?"

"Making you reply," Draco said, exhaling against Harry's skin.

The Gryffindor threw back his head sharply, eyes widening in revelation. Sensitive, he thought to himself, way to sensitive for these games. Draco softly bit down on Harry's sides, making the other buck his hips.

"Down, you," Draco grinned, positioning himself better so Harry had little to no way out.

"Who you?" Harry asked confusedly.

"Don't talk. You're nonsensical at the moment," Draco smirked.

"I am no… oh!"

Draco made a trace of bite marks down Harry's left side, making the Gryffindor squirm underneath him and lose track of his common sense.

"What. Did. You. Say?" Draco asked, biting down with each word.

Harry was laughing and pleading him to stop at the same time, unsure whether he wanted to give in or not. That and the unexpected onslaught brought him right back where they had left off the evening before. Suddenly the biting stopped. Harry opened his eyes and was startled by the appearance of Draco.

"Wh… What?" he asked.

"Yesterday you presented your neck to me," Draco said in a low voice, while pulling Harry's hands behind the black hair. With one hand he covered both Harry's wrists, while he gently dipped Harry's head back with the other now free hand. Harry's chest rose slightly more after this, as he watched Draco lower himself to his neck. Groaning, his green eyes slid shut, when Draco's lips softly, teasingly touched his skin, but the blonde had no intention of taking this too far. Harry whimpered impatiently when the Slytherin stopped his treatment.

"Answer me," he said.

"To what?"

"What did you say?"

"I can't even remember what you're referring to," Harry said. "Besides I say so many things. Could you just get… on with it?"

"Impatient one, aren't we."

"Draco…"

The blonde's eyes widened at hearing his first name, and images of Harry exclaiming that name while Draco was inside him clawed their way to the front of his brain, thoroughly eliminating any sense of purpose he had. The platinum blonde inhaled roughly, and then rested his head beneath Harry's chin.

"Gods, don't use my first name," he whispered.

His grip on Harry's wrists slackened, but his form remained hovering above him. Harry sat half upright, propping his elbows underneath him and practically forcing Draco's face against his chest.

"Why not?" he asked simply.

For the first time in days, Draco felt the proverbial pang of impatience at the Gryffindor's typical characteristics. _What am I doing…_ He remembered Pansy's words. Was this what he wanted, truly wanted? His forehead was still resting against Harry's chest. Draco opened his eyes and stared at the naked skin.

Was this it? _Hell no, this is not everything._ It simply could not be just this. Yet, did he want to know what it was, if not 'just this'? Some things were plain and simple though. So he chose the most simple, truthful answer he could manage at this very moment, knowing it would set the Gryffindor off on an emotional rollercoaster.

"Because it makes me want to shag the hell out of you just to hear you say it again."

It had the expected effect and more. Harry's brow creased. A look of anger and… perhaps vulnerability… marred Harry's handsome face. Then the eyes softened and Draco wondered why the dark-haired man did not bolt for the doors that instant. Did Harry actually consider it? If that were so, things would get more complicated than Draco was ready to admit. Right now, however, the fact that Harry did not run away from him or the situation was enough.

"It does sound intriguing," Harry said. "But for now you'll have to make do with the actual answer to the question I suddenly remember."

"Quite suddenly indeed," Draco agreed, looking up at the other's face and carefully storing the 'for now' in Harry's statement in his mind.


	32. Shaking Hands

"I said that when you smile you look even more beautiful."

A soft pink tinged the Gryffindor's cheekbones. Draco did not really react, just looked a bit ponderously.

"Do I really have dimples?"

Harry sniggered, but immediately apologised as Draco lowered his open mouth and prominent canines back to his skin.

"Not extremely," he said honestly. "And only on one side, strangely."

Draco made a sound of dismay. "Merlin, to have dimples is one thing, but then not to have them on either side. It unbalances my face."

"You'll get over it," Harry said fondly. "Besides one imperfection makes you look more human."

"I resent the word 'imperfection' thoroughly and most certainly do not feel the need to be more human. I'd rather have people fear me than love me. It keeps them off your property."

Draco remained lying on top of Harry, and they lay in silence, at ease.

"Do you need to stay in Paris for the remainder of fashion week?"

"Not necessarily," Draco murmured. "Why?"

"I thought perhaps we could go some place else, a bit less crowded and stressful?"

"Only you would call one of the biggest events in fashion stressful. Where did you have in mind?"

Draco threw Harry a look that kind of said 'What on earth are you doing proposing me a private holiday?', but neither of them seemed truly interested in mulling that over.

"A terribly small place in the Ardennes in Belgium."

"A what in the what in where now?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Come on, snob, expand your horizons a little."

"I _have_ heard of that teensy country, especially its chocolate," Draco said seriously. "I'm just wondering why you would want to go there."

"Because it is secluded, nobody knows and…"

His voice faltered, not sure what the rest of the answer needed to be. Vaguely he shied away from the rest of that sentence.

"Lead the way," Draco said; a challenge in his voice.

***

They Side-Apparated into a small alley. Harry's arm was securely wrapped around Draco's waist. The blonde elegantly disentangled himself from the embrace, giving his cloak a careless flick in the process. Then he registered his surroundings.

"Terribly small indeed. If I were any more of a barbarian I would spit from one side to the other."

Harry just smiled, thinking Draco's incessant whining, when not directed at him personally, was rather amusing. It seemed an indicator to how well he was feeling. The blonde did not always appear to care whether someone reacted either. The Gryffindor led the way out of the alley into the tiny cobbled streets of the town. Its buildings were erected out of seemingly medieval stones, at intervals combined with wood. There was not a supermarket, bank or hairdresser in sight. Narrow doors gave entrance to different bakeries and butcher shops, or other kinds of local stores. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry made sure to take in Draco's reactions and was pleased to notice a curious glint in his silver eyes. He could not help but grin.

"What," the blonde huffed, though not at full capacity.

"Nothing," Harry said. "We'll need to walk to our residence."

The Slytherin made a face at Harry, lowering his chin slightly.

"There's winter in the air," Harry stated, ignoring The Look. "Nice and brisk to walk through."

"Well, I guess I can give this whole nature thing a try," the other added teasingly.

"Considering the vast grounds surrounding the Manor I thought you were aware of the Great Outdoors already."

"Says the one who had not heard of Paris Fashion Week before."

Harry shrugged. "Priorities I guess."

"Sloppy is another word for it."

Mock insulted Harry gave Draco a slight shove. The other jumped out of reach with a chuckle.

"Come on," Draco said, pulling the Gryffindor into a tiny coffee shop. "If you'll make me walk, the least you can do is provide me with sustenance."

Before Harry could protest, the blonde had glanced at the menu and ordered for the both of them.

"One Café con Miel and one West Indies Coffee, please, and throw in two chocolate brownies."

A wrinkled old lady smiled at them, muttered something in French and shuffled to the back. Sounds and scents of coffee beans being moulded to powder kept Harry occupied, as he stared at Draco's back. His brow was creased in wonder. _How does he know I drink coffee with honey?_ Draco returned, looking like a pleased cat presented with milk, and handed Harry his 'sustenance'. Gratefully the Gryffindor accepted it.

"Don't forget to pay, will you?"

With a soft snort, Harry put the correct amount of Muggle money on the counter. He turned back to Draco and searched for eye contact.

"I better not ask why you know how I like my coffee, right?"

Draco looked smug and instead of replying merely sipped his cup innocently. He let out a long, pleased groan, which made Harry's neck hair stand up.

"Eat, Green-Eyes. You might need the energy."

With that the blonde stalked outside, turned in the doorway the sun falling sideways on his hair causing a warm glow to linger all over him and eyed Harry. "Which way?"

"Ehhhh… Right," Harry managed, trying to make sure he had not imagined hearing that nickname.

"By the way, you're right," Draco said, picking up on an earlier subject. "The grounds around the Manor are rather huge. I used to spend a lot of time in them, when Mother and Father were around more. We ate outside whenever we could."

Harry tried to picture the homey scene. Again it made him smile. The Malfoy household had been a warm one to grow up in, so it seemed. Despite everything. He hesitated for a second, but then shared that thought with Draco. The blonde chewed his brownie thoughtfully and swallowed before speaking, while following the direction Harry pointed out towards a little bridge.

"Well, of course," he said matter-of-factly. "What did you expect? Two Death-Eaters are automatically bad parents? Father didn't read me stories? Mother didn't worry about him when he was gone with his 'buddies'? Or fuss over me when I fell and scraped my knee?"

"No, I didn't think that," Harry reassured him, thinking the mental image of a tiny Draco was too sweet to contemplate. "I never thought about it."

Draco smiled sadly and Harry cursed himself for touching upon the undoubtedly painful memories.

"I'm sorry you lost that," he said simply, snaking his arm through Draco's and pulling him closer.

Draco was not sure what caused the next thing happening. Harry's words; the fact that he knew like no other what it was to lose loved ones, or the simple bodily gesture in this moment of weakness. His body shivered under the touch and he barely found the time to set down the cup of coffee and the remains of his brownie on the bridge, before his knees buckled. Harry's food dropped to the floor, so he could grab hold of Draco. Overcome by the moment, the Gryffindor's eyes betrayed his emotions and Draco groaned in agony.

"Don't look at me that way," he grit through clenched teeth, trying to get out of Harry's warm hands.

"You're not going anywhere," Harry said gently, tensing his muscles. "I really am sorry you lost your home, Drake."

The sweetly pronounced nickname was Draco's undoing. His eyes were wide as he stared at his former arch-nemesis, his body shaking uncontrollably. In the middle of town, no less. The blonde fought for control, but was terrified to find he was incapable of directing his body. It was as if all the cold of the world was located in the hole in his heart. Teeth clattering, he squeezed his eyes shut, not able to bear Harry's green eyes.

"Hold me," he breathed.

Without a word or any hesitation, Harry closed the little distance between them and wrapped Draco securely in a hug. The Gryffindor noticed Draco's temperature had dropped and tried to ignore the shaking of his body, willing the blonde to calmness. Harry never remembered the words he cooed softly in Draco's neck, while feeling the Slytherin clutch to him like a lost child.

"Fuck you, Potter, for doing this to me," Draco cursed between shivers.

Harry kept his hurt feelings at bay by telling himself this might very well be the first time since the fall of Voldemort that Draco had let his feelings show to anyone except his mirrored image. He guessed not even Kowaku had a true idea… Angry at the decision once made, Harry felt guilty for his own part in it. He too was responsible and it made him want to erase any sign of hurt in Draco's silver eyes. His loyal Gryffindor mind allowed him nothing less than to feel personally responsible for what had happened to Draco. And in spending so much time with him over the last year, he _knew_ their decision had been wrong. Harry buried his face in Draco's neck, murmuring sweet words against his skin. Draco's consequent shiver had less to do with the cold that overcame him, yet did not fully chase the ghosts of his past. The Slytherin dared not let go of Harry's backside for fear of seeing his hands shake. Instead Draco dug his fingers in the fabric, trying to eliminate any space left between him and the comfort of Harry.

Neither of them had any idea how long they were standing there, in each others' arms. Several people passing by looked at the two quizzically, but the men did not notice. Eventually, Draco slackened his hold on Harry. When they were eye to eye again, Draco slightly taller than Harry, the Slytherin searched his friend's face for any signs of discomfort. Yet instead of that, he found nothing but a cute smile and lights in Harry's eyes. For the first time since they had met again, a faint blush tinged Draco's cheeks. Harry did not mention it, but did have the audacity to ruffle through the platinum hair, earning a shocked look from Draco, who broke the silence with a yelp. Harry laughed; the warm sound acting as a starting shot for movement. The world seemed to revive as did they. A tiny personal moment had passed between them. Together they walked to a small cottage on the outskirts of the little town. Draco overlooked the house with critical yet appraising eyes.


	33. You think you know me

"Is this yours?" he asked, letting go of Harry's hand and stepping forward to walk around the back.

"It is," Harry said; a smile in his voice. "It serves as my home away from home."

The lock creaked when he twisted the key inside it. It had been a while since his last visit. Work tended to get in the way of breathing space. Draco returned from the side of the house and followed Harry inside the cottage.

"Especially from the Ministry," the dark-haired man added as an afterthought and heard Draco snicker.

"Admit it; you could not live without your position of Head Auror."

"I know you're right, but there are times I can do well without it. It is partly responsible for my issues with Ginny."

"Right," the Slytherin said, his face falling, and Harry immediately realised he had made a mistake mentioning her. Annoyed at himself, he rubbed his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning around. "I should not have mentioned her."

Draco shrugged, trying to make it look natural. "Well, she _is_ your girlfriend, right? Fiancée even if I am to believe the latest news."

Harry held out his hand to take Draco's coat. They locked eyes when their hands touched in the process. Draco could not help but smirk, though his usual touch of superiority was absent. Harry swallowed, while hanging the coats behind the door and turning on the heating.

Inside the cottage it was small, yet cosy and everything smelled of wood. Draco stood in the middle of the living room and turned around. He made a mock surprised appreciative look.

"I expected more Gryffindor red, to be honest."

Harry snorted. "You don't think much of me, do you?"

Draco laughed, his deep timbre coming to its right. "More than I used to, but don't tell anyone."

Slowly Harry closed in on the Slytherin, thinking Draco hardly noticed. Yet the platinum blonde knew all too well he was being circled. The idea of Harry Potter as the pursuer in their – for now – complicated relationship amused and excited him. They had come a long way since the Thorfinn mission and in a relatively short span of time. Draco allowed himself to be surprised by the Gryffindor's arms around his waist. He turned his head, facing Harry's scarily bright green eyes. _Those eyes will be my ruin yet…_

"Are you hungry?"

Draco cocked a suggestive eyebrow, drinking in Harry's blush. _So far for being the self-confident pursuer._ Instead of letting the moment linger, Draco butterflied a kiss to Harry's lips.

"Extremely. I hope you can cook."

"I _know_ you can cook," Harry scolded him. "I learned that much during our mission. But yes, I will, if that is what you mean."

"Of course, I'm used to being served."

Draco squinted a very feline smile at Harry, his eyes turning to silver slits. Throwing him a 'spoiled brat' look, the Gryffindor stepped into the kitchen, the blonde on his tail. It took Harry about ten minutes to throw together a pasta sauce with tomatoes, tuna and green peas. Having canned food permanently stored in a country house was plain common sense.

"Just ten minutes more and we can eat."

Draco shamelessly opened cabinets, clearly searching for something. Harry eyed it with mild amusement.

"These cabinets of yours hold the strangest things but not what I'm looking for… Don't you have any wine in this place?"

The platinum head reappeared out of one particular cabinet, holding a sowing kit. He looked at Harry with an exasperated questioning look on his face.

"What in Merlin's name is _this_ doing in a kitchen cupboard?"

"You want some cheese to go with your whine?"

Oblivious to the subtle play on words or ignoring it, Draco continued to mess through Harry's kitchen, while the Gryffindor poured off the pasta through an antique looking colander.

"Stop wrecking my kitchen. There is wine in the scullery on the lower shelves."

A pleased sound and some scurrying followed that announcement. Draco came back with a dusty looking bottle.

"Has it been a while since you were last here or do you just not realise how many fancy wines you've got in there?"

"A little bit of both," Harry admitted, serving two royal portions into deep grey coloured bowls.

While opening the bottle of wine, Draco looked over at Harry. So after a long time of not being in his 'home away from home', the first thing the Gryffindor did was invite Draco? He voiced that thought, to which Harry looked over the rim of his glasses and Draco's skin crawled. The only answer he got was a smile and a shrug. Draco poured two glasses of white wine.

The chairs were, much to Draco's surprise, soft and comfortable. He leaned back a bit, swirling the clear liquid in his glass. Next to him, Harry ponderously held his glass as well. They were thinking the same thing… _A toast… But to what?_ It was, not surprisingly, Draco who was faster.

"Who'd have thunk it," he said, holding his glass higher. "That I would be having dinner with Harry Potter in his home away from home." He paused, perhaps for dramatic effect and felt Harry's eyes on his face. "But I think I will drink to that very unexpected yet pleasant fact."

"You do have a way with words," Harry smirked. "I'll just stick to the simple statement that although I never expected this, it is anything but unwished for."

Their glasses made a delicate 'clink' sound and remained in contact for a few seconds.

"Un_wished_ for?"

Draco's tone, although teasing, had lost its taunting touch along the road and it seemed as if Harry heard his voice for the first time. He eyed the blonde man eating. Draco had always been sensual, sexy, tempting, dark and dangerous, and anything else that perhaps could have been considered attractive had it not been for their opposing parties. _Details…_ Draco's eyes were cast down at his food and Harry noticed the long platinum lashes almost lying against the soft patch of skin beneath his eyes. His hair seemed to be, for lack of a better word, fluffier than usual and fell gracefully whenever Draco moved his head.

"You're staring at me again," the blonde said without looking sideways.

Harry almost flinched but withheld the instinctive reaction at the last second and just kept his eyes on Draco. The Slytherin glanced sideways, a bit surprised, and then laughed crookedly. _Well, well… Shy Green-Eyes is learning and now it is my turn to observe._ Predictably the raven-haired man focused on his food, though he was still at ease. Draco could never have imagined this possible. Tilting his head to the side a bit, he saw Harry push his glasses back up the rim of his nose time and again. It made Draco smile and he felt like an idiot for it. This bond with Harry Potter was bringing out the worst in him… That's what Pansy would have said. He snatched his eyes to Harry's lips as soon as he licked them and sadistically thought about Ginny. _When did she last kiss those lips?_ He preferred not to know the answer, for fear of gagging. Furthermore the mere thought pissed him off tremendously. Draco had always known he was a potentially jealous man – after all, a Malfoy possession would always remain a Malfoy possession - but never expected him to be so over Harry Potter. One thing was for sure. If Harry did not bring her up again, neither would Draco. After all, the Slytherin was not the one involved and therefore felt no need to be Harry's conscience. That would kick in anyway, regardless of what happened between them. It was just a matter of _when_ it would do so and Draco hoped to hell it would remain hidden for a long time, wherever it had its stakeout. It was no longer a matter of 'if' he would take it to the next level with Harry.

Just a matter of 'when'.

It did something strange to the Malfoy heir, this sudden realisation. His chest seemed to contract at the thought, his heart leapt and he felt strangely… humbled. _There seems to be a first for everything_, he thought somewhat cynically to himself. He leaned back in the chair, feeling pleasantly full, swirling his wine and taking in its honey-like scent. The next thing Draco knew, Harry was standing to clear the table. Gently he put his hand on the raven-haired man's.

"Just leave it," he drawled.

It was appalling how fast Harry's mind agreed with that request. Both men took their glass of wine; Harry brought the bottle, and sat in the living room in the only couch present. With a snap of Harry's fingers, the fireplace made a roaring sound and Draco looked at the fire appreciatively. They were huddled in warm light and surrounded by knowing silence.

"You hardly use your full magical capacities, do you?"

Harry looked to his side at Draco's profile, noticing the straight line of his nose and jawbone.

"Not really," he said. "It seems a bit wasteful. But sometimes it's just…"

"Easier," Draco put in. "And just a tad more impressive. I bet it works on Hufflepuffs."

"Never tried that," the dark-haired man laughed. "Doubt it works on a Slytherin, but then again you don't need to be impressed. If you're not impressed by the fact that I'm Harry Potter, nothing else will impress you."

"Potter," Draco said in a mock imitation of his old self. "I'm impressed by anything _but_ the fact that you are Harry Potter. I have known you for nearly my whole life."

"You _think_ you know me. I guarantee you there's a lot more to see."

"That line sounds vaguely familiar," Draco said. "I don't remember where it is from."

"One or other song… I don't exactly know which one, but it is true."

Harry readjusted in the couch, sitting in yoga-position with his face towards the platinum blonde man. Draco let out a little sigh.

"I never gave you enough credit, so it seems."

Harry chuckled in response. "You weren't the only one. I never expected to hear that from your lips though."

Draco threw him a look Harry now knew as The Look, which asked him something completely different involving lips. The warmth of the fire made shadows play over both men's faces. The thought of Ginny crossed Harry's mind in wonder and although he knew there was nothing average about this encounter with Draco and he was no longer walking that thin line between correct and incorrect, he also could not shrug off Hermione's advice. Right now, there was no Ginny. Not really… Once again, they had agreed to take a break, regardless what Rita Skeeter thought to know. While thoughts tumbled through his mind, ringing in a headache, Draco's face had slowly closed in.

*******

**Reference**: The line Harry uses and which Draco vaguely recognises is actually a line from a Feltbeat song 'Time well spent medley', by Tom Felton. (Check out Youtube "Feltbeats".)


	34. Dervla's Visit

It had been Harry moving, not the blonde. Draco just had an impish smile lingering in his eyes, while he waited for their noses to touch. It took quite a lot of him not to pin the dark-haired man down right there and then to have his way with him. His eyes fluttered shut when he felt Harry's soft, warm lips again. _Blissful…_ In Harry's head all coherent thoughts evaporated. The Slytherin tilted his head, parting his lips a bit and flicking his tongue out over Harry's lower lip. The Gryffindor leaned in further, forcing Draco on his back and he sank into the soft pillows a bit with Harry hovering over him. They broke off their kiss almost simultaneously. Pale hands removed Harry's spectacles, and the dark-haired man crinkled his nose at his diminished eyesight. His eyes focused again on the face in front of him and for a second it seemed as if Harry's heart stopped. The Gryffindor sighed, leaning back into the embrace. Carefully one hand snaked up to rest at Draco's chest. Smiling into the kiss, he dipped one finger in at the top of Draco's sweater and gradually unzipped it. When Harry's hand flattened itself onto Draco's chest, they paused to breathe in each other's warmth. Underneath his warm palm, Harry felt Draco's heart. Draco heard the darker man shiver, saw his green eyes take his bare chest in and felt curiosity well up inside him. How far would his Gryffindor friend take this?

Harry worked his way down, seemingly paying attention to every detail, inquisitive as to which part of Draco's chest was most sensitive. He discovered two rosy nipples and the sensitive patches of skin around them, gently sucking, and then biting… Testing which responses the blonde would give. Draco moaned, steadying his desire to take control of the situation… Lying back had rarely been his thing, unless he had been too lazy. In this case, he just did not want to spook his companion. Harry learned after a few bites that a hiss was not a good sign… And then teased the platinum blonde with it… Working his way south, he made sure to take his time, not wanting to miss out on anything… Harry let his tongue dart out and circle Draco's navel. In response the blonde groaned, throwing his head back, eyes wide… Blowing softly at the wet spot, the dark-haired man snickered and was glad he was in control. He wasn't sure whether he could handle such a treatment at this very moment. While concentrating on Draco's navel, Harry curled two fingers into the blonde's pants. He tilted his head and teasingly blew in some air… Contrary to what Harry expected the platinum blonde did not panic, but did push himself up on his elbows, his silver eyes forming stormy questions… The Gryffindor took one second to consider his actions, then splayed his body over Draco's legs, his arms resting at the man's knees and fumbled with the belt at the Slytherin's waist. Draco could not prevent a ghost of a smile sliding across his face, before being distracted by the tantalising touches at his zipper… _Too much fabric altogether…_ Harry unknowingly obliged by lowering Draco's trousers. Draco's boxers did not do a good job hiding the blonde's state of arousal… Curiously, Harry gently scratched the soft fabric. Draco made an unintelligent sound, which said 'more'. Dipping one finger behind the elastic, Harry discovered soft hair and the tip of something hard… He grinned a bit foolishly… An erection was nothing unfamiliar, but having his hands on someone else's was. Without further time for hesitation, he patted Draco's side.

"Lift your hips."

Boxers joined the trousers. Draco squirmed under Harry and mumbled something.

"What?"

"Take off my socks, will you? Possibly one of the worst things one can do during…" Draco hesitated and Harry looked at him for a second, while taking off aforementioned black socks.

"I get the idea," the dark-haired man nodded, leaning in for a kiss before returning to his previous position.

Okay, first time ever I'm here, the Gryffindor thought, while hovering over Draco's erection. The sight was quite attractive and Harry felt himself overcome with desire… He gasped, his body taunt and strong above Draco's. Instinct took over… Wrapping one hand around the hard member, Harry carefully gave it one stroke. Draco arched wordlessly under the action… Knowing from experience that a lack of lubricant was a thorough moodkiller, the Gryffindor lowered his hand to the hilt of Draco's member and swirled his tongue around the tip. This time he got a vocal reply in a wanton cry. Immediately the blonde clenched his teeth together. _Fuck!_ Before he could recover, Harry did the same trick… _Fuckfuck! _One hand came to rest on Draco's abdomen, teasing his sides and nipples. Carefully the Gryffindor lowered his mouth deeper and deeper over Draco's erection, hearing the blonde moan deeper and deeper, until eventually a guttural growl carrying Harry's name bubbled from his lips.

"_Fuck, Harry… More…"_

Harry instinctively pulled back, making a sucking movement. Draco followed the warm cavity, raising his hips and buried one hand in Harry's dark hair to prevent escape. Letting out a warning groan, Harry put both hands on Draco's hipbones and pushed the blonde back into the pillows, meanwhile teasing the tip of his erection. Draco was lost in the sensations, wondering vaguely if any blowjob in his life had been like this. When Harry's right hand snaked underneath his left upper leg and gently pushed a spot between his nads and arsehole, he was sure nothing compared. Seeing stars, he trashed his head side to side, asking Harry where he had learned the trick. All the Gryffindor did was chuckle and take Draco's leaking member back in his mouth, continuing the gentle rubbing with his hand. Draco squeezed his eyes shut thanking every God and Goddess he could come up with in this state of mind. There was no indication how long Harry kept it up, but Draco immediately knew when the ministrations stopped. Confused and quite frustrated he opened his eyes and pushed himself up on one elbow to find Harry staring at him.

"A Patronus."

Draco dropped his head back to the pillows and cursed colourfully. "You have _got_ to be kidding me! The Ministry needs you now?!"

Draco craned his neck to watch the Patronus and barely registered what Harry said, before he recognised the upside down lithe flying form of his dragon.

"It's Dervla…"

Draco literally threw Harry off of him, jumping from one foot to the other putting his clothes back on. Understanding something was terribly amiss, Harry got up to his feet. The little dragon made a few twirls in the air, and then rested atop the table.

"_Kowaku was taken from her house by three Dark Wizards."_

Then she evaporated.

"How is this possible?" Harry asked. "You said Kowaku could not do magic."

"It's a system I developed to track her whereabouts. When anything bad happens to her involving magic, Dervla is automatically set off to find me and deliver whatever she could register."

"She did not register a lot," Harry pointed out carefully.

Draco was fully dressed, swinging his cloak around his shoulders and turning to face Harry. His silver eyes looked like ink swirling in a glass of water.

"It told me enough to know that the last sane member of my family is in trouble."

When Draco turned and vanished into the darkness, Harry realised he had to hurry or the blonde would be off on his own.

"Hold up," he yelled, putting his shoes back on and taking his cloak. Quickly he doused the fire and put the basic protection spells on his house, before running after the Slytherin.

"What are you doing?" Draco drawled.

"Coming with you, what else?"

"Don't be a hero again, Potter. Ko is my sister and I will not have y…"

Harry silenced the blonde with a deep yet short kiss.

"For once in your life, do not argue, Drake. Just take me with you."

Looking miffed, Draco obliged and closed his arms around Harry's waist, apparating them into a patch of trees. Immediately Harry's Auror skills kicked in and he crouched lower. He did not need Draco to tell him they were at Kowaku's house. Nothing moved in or around the mansion. One glance through the gate, preventing normal strangers from entering, told Harry they were still close to the city centre. There was still a lot of traffic, despite the late hour.


	35. Careless

Wand at the ready, he rested his free hand lightly on Draco's wrist. The platinum blonde turned his head and Harry mouthed _How long since it happened?_ at him. _Minutes_, he mouthed back. Observing the house for a few seconds, Draco anew snaked his arm around Harry's waist and apparated them into Kowaku's bedroom. The place was a mess, sheets spread over the floor and bedside tables toppled over, the content of their drawers visible. Silently they moved as shadows through the room. Draco felt the heat of his sister's body still present in the sheets. Furiously he dug his fingers in the soft fabric, clenching his teeth.

"Smells like dark magic," Harry said. "I will alert the Ministry and my teams."

"It will do no good," Draco grunted, sitting down with a sigh. "I was wondering when this would happen."

He bent over, resting his elbows on his knees and resting his forehead against the palms of his hands. Harry thought Draco looked downright abandoned.

"Revenge for past actions?" he enquired, resisting the want to embrace the blonde.

"I have myself covered quite decently in the Wizarding World. I never expected them to go after her."

"Did anyone know of her existence?"

"My parents and I were the only ones."

"Still a name like 'Malfoy' leaves little to the imagination," Harry murmured.

"Malfoys do not change their name."

"Let's hope they don't get killed because of it either," the Auror said, then bit his lip to the point of bleeding at seeing Draco's expression.

"Are you always this kind on your victims?"

"I'm sorry, Drake," Harry said, this time stepping forward and resting his hand in Draco's neck. He gave the man a soft squeeze and was rewarded with a warm hand against his thigh.

"Do you have a list of names of possible perpetrators?"

"More or less any Dark Wizard who knows of the Malfoys' part in the Dark Lord's downfall and family of those who got killed on either side."

"Yeah," Harry said, squinting slightly. "How drole."

"Is that French I hear?"

"Completely beside the point, but yes, it is."

"I have a good guess who is behind this," Draco said, returning to the subject. "She hid her secret well, all these years, but I recognise Bellatrix's touch anywhere."

"Molly killed her."

"So she did," the blonde said, rising from the cooling sheets. "But she also left behind a child."

"Great," Harry smiled sarcastically. "That's all the world needs. A Lestrange out for revenge. How old is this prodigy?"

"I'm guessing she's about seventeen now."

"That's barely of age," the Gryffindor yelled. "Where has the kid been hiding?"

"Precisely the problem. No one knows. Bellatrix wasn't exactly mother material."

"_Somebody_ must have taught her magic."

"Better ask her when we catch her," Draco said, an edge to his voice.

"Okay," Harry agreed. "But how can you be sure?"

"I've been receiving letters over the last few weeks."

Harry immediately sank through his knees and looked at Draco's face.

"And why – pray tell – haven't you alerted the authorities?"

"Those dimwits? Because I can handle a Dark Wizard and like I said, I never thought they would go after Ko."

"You git!"

Draco's eyes flashed angrily and he rose from the bed, Harry mirroring the movement, causing both men to stand chest to chest.

"Who said it was just one wizard!"

"Who said I asked for your opinion?!"

"Dammit, Draco. You should have owled me. Or if you are so averse to me helping you, someone else."

Draco's fist closed around Harry's upper arm. "And who would have cared, Harry? Who would not have thought that it was my just reward?"

Baffled and hurt, the Gryffindor stared at his Slytherin friend.

"Many more people than you give them credit for, Drake," he said softly. "A lot of people have forgiven you."

"I do not _want_ their forgiveness," the blonde growled.

"Why not," the raven-haired man said, closing his hand over Draco's. The blonde tried to escape, but could not. "Why are you the only one who is incapable of forgiving yourself?"

"Green-Eyes," Draco whispered, his voice on the verge of breaking. "Don't do this. Not twice a day."

"We still need to alert the Ministry," Harry repeated, lowering his eyes and stepping back from Draco. He allowed the Slytherin a few seconds to stop the gaps in his mental shield, before speaking further. "They need to know about this Lestrange kid and Hermione has been working on a new way to locate Dark Wizards."

"Please, no." It sounded a lot like the younger Draco.

"Yes," Harry said in a teasing tone.

Draco gave in wordlessly, squeezing his fingers to the bridge of his nose in frustration and waving an impatient hand at Harry to get a move on. This time, Harry flung his arms around Draco, catching The Look right before they apparated into Kingsley's office. The Minister of Magic did not even flinch at the sight before him and merely looked at the two men.

"Yes?"

Harry explained the situation concisely yet accurately, making sure not to forget anything and giving the Minister more details than Draco could have, if his life depended upon it.

"I think this is a good time to test Hermione's new tracking spells," he said finally. "The letters Draco received might help to have this girl's magical essence."

"Magical essence," Draco echoed questioningly.

"I'll let Hermione fill that one in. It's her theory anyway."

"Don't make me sit through a lecture by her," the blonde complained.

"Mind your manners, Draco Malfoy," Hermione said, as she walked into Kingsley's office.

The blonde barely reacted and just raised his pale eyebrow at her.

"Don't make me regret defending you all these years," she said, blunt as ever.

Harry grinned widely at the surprise on the Slytherin's face.

"Although defending you does not quite cover it lately," she added evilly, with a quick eye on Harry, after which she turned to Kingsley, smiling brightly. "You called for me?"

The blonde smiled mischievously at seeing Harry's grin fade into a scowl at Hermione's back. Subtly he closed the little distance between himself and the Gryffindor, both men barely registering the conversation between the Minister and Hermione.

"And just what did she mean by that?"

Harry just snorted in reply, refusing to look at the blonde. Feeling his heart lurch, Draco leaned in a bit closer and whispered into Harry's ear: "I _will_ get the answers out of you, Harry Potter. Mark my words."

Harry shivered, shaking his shoulders and looked up to find both Kingsley and Hermione looking at him expectantly; the first with a sceptical look on his face, the second barely able to hold back her giggles. The Gryffindor immediately took one step away from Draco, felt his cheeks flush and grunted something inaudible. Hermione caught the triumphant look on Draco's face.

"What do you want me to do, Harry?" Hermione asked gently.

"Try and track Bellatrix's daughter with your new spells," Harry said, returning to the situation at hand. "Draco, have you got the letters?"

Without speaking, the blond took them from one of many compartments in his cloak and handed them to Harry. Carefully, he unfolded them, scanning the irregular handwriting and handing them to Hermione one by one. His eyes turned darker with every letter he read and he threw Draco a dangerous look more than once. Considering that Kowaku was now in danger, the platinum blonde realised his mistake all too well.

Hermione put them next to each other on Kingsley's desk, studied all of them, murmuring incantations as she handled each of them. Feeling uneasy, Draco intertwined his fingers pressing them to his lips, the way his mother had always done when his father had been out with the Death Eaters, waiting for her husband's safe return. As minutes went by, the room seemed to darken and Hermione's hands started to shake. Yet her voice never once quavered as she resumed her spells, dragging the information she demanded from the letters, the paper, the ink, and the magic that was bound within. Kingsley rose from his chair and stood beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder.

_Kafusei_.

Shaken, she breathed in and gave the Minister a grateful smile, before returning to her work. The letters now seemed to burn under her touch, all rising simultaneously from the desk before falling back and returned to their original colour. Immediately the room was back to normal and Hermione sank through her knees. Harry rushed forward, but it was Kingsley who threw an arm around her and helped her stumble to his chair. Speechless the raven-haired man bent through his knees and studied his fellow Gryffindor's face. He gently rested his cool hand against her warm cheek, to which she opened her brown eyes and instantly smiled at seeing him.

"I found her," she said hoarsely. "It was not easy. She is skilled for being such a young Witch, but not skilled enough. Be careful, Harry, she is a dangerous girl."

"But still only a girl," he replied darkly. "Did you see Kowaku?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "But these spells are meant to locate the Dark Wizard, not the victims or anyone else with them, so it says nothing. You need to go to Wool's Orphanage."

"For Death Eaters and Dark Wizards I must say these guys are melancholic to the bone," Harry said, a wry smile on his face.

"Or too young to come up with something better," Draco put in, appearing behind Harry.

He looked down at Hermione with something of a ponderous look on his face, his silver eyes unreadable. Then he leaned in, looking her square in the eyes.

"Thank you."

Hermione, still exhausted, was speechless for a second, but then smiled at him. Before the Slytherin knew what hit him, she had pulled him into a hug. Draco barely contained the urge to struggle free of her embrace and uneasily patted her on the back.

"Harry," Kingsley said, again skilfully ignoring the scene. "Take your team of Aurors and get Miss Malfoy back. Miss Lestrange has earned a one way ticket to Azkaban. There have been quite enough killings thanks to Voldemort. Get a move on. Now."

Harry instantly turned on his heels. From the corner of his eye he saw a protest about to come from Draco's lips, so he grabbed the blonde by the hand on his way out.

"I will take care of him as well," he said, turning back and looking at Kingsley in his office.

"Don't take him along, Harry. You hear me?"

Harry cunningly made a convincing _What, I can't hear you!_ move with his hand behind his ear and disappeared around the corner, an amused Draco in tow.

"Move," the raven-haired man ordered. "Before he decides to come after us."


	36. Bellatrix's Prodigy

Draco wisely kept his mouth shut and followed Harry into the Aurors department. The Gryffindor threw his cloak off, put his index finger and thumb in a horizontal circle to his lips and whistled deafeningly. Immediately several people rose from chairs or came running from around corners. Draco watched as his friend communicated through short signals and a total of five Aurors, amongst them Ron Weasley, put on their battle gear, consisting of padded vests and sturdy trousers, boots and gloves. For a second Ron and Draco looked at one another, until the red-haired man nodded curtly. Feeling a bit agitated, the blonde returned the gesture, but said nothing.

It took the group about five minutes to get ready and despite the urgency of the situation, Draco felt a rush of desire well up inside him. It got worse, when Harry stood in front of him and held out a set of battle gear for Draco.

"Put this on and let's go."

"You are going to ignore a direct order from the Minister?" Draco asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged non-apologetically. "Rules are meant to be broken. Sometimes."

"Good thing you added that last word," the blonde said, while putting the battle gear on. "I would have used it against you otherwise."

"I'm pretty sure you'll still find ways to do so, regardless of that last word. Now let's go get your sister."

***

Three brooms hovered invisibly above Wool's Orphanage, staring down at the red brick buildings. Harry and Ron were keeping an eye out for the other Aurors' return. Draco sat tense on his broom and although he knew Harry was right to be careful, he wanted to go in, kill the little Lestrange chit and get Kowaku back to safety. He also vowed to do the second item on that list if he got the chance. One of Harry's men returned.

"No sign of magical presence in the left wing."

Within seconds the second and third followed with alike messages about the middle and right wing.

"She is underneath the buildings," said the fourth Auror upon his return. "It's a maze down there and she is not alone. I spotted at least three wizards guarding the entrance to her lair."

"Did anyone see another entrance than the main one," Ron asked. The three shook their heads. Harry nodded grimly.

"We cannot afford to lose much more time. If the daughter is as fickle as the mother, she might kill Kowaku, regardless if her brother is there to see it," Harry said. "We move in, groups of two. You know the drill: aim to knock out and immobilise as silently as possible until we are spotted, grab the victim and get out. Draco, stay close."

"Yes, sir," the Slytherin said in a mock military tone, his eyes belying the playful attitude.

The group of Aurors immediately fell apart into duos and they all swooped down. Speed was of utmost importance if they were to succeed. The world turned into a blur around them, as they went head first for the entrance to the basement below Wool's Orphanage. Draco heard whispered spells and two guards fell to the ground, immobilised. The third found the time to dodge the oncoming spell and managed to touch the doorknob before sinking through his knees as well. Harry raised a fist and everyone pulled up to stop. The Head Auror signalled one of his team members and the man raised a gloved hand, eyes closed and lips moving.

"Dark Magic protection spells and charms," he said. "It will take a lot of time to open them unnoticed."

"Time we do not have," Draco growled, raising his wand and blasting the gate to pieces.

"Drake!" Harry shouted, as his blonde friend sped off into the dark halls. "Everyone to their tasks. Ron, keep Draco safe, while I try to find Kowaku."

"Roger," the redhead grunted, his face betraying annoyance at the Slytherin's impulsiveness as he flew after the escapee. Harry understood his best friend all too well, but also knew Ron was a professional, who knew what to do in situations as these.

For a few meters, they all flew in the same directions until the halls split up as did the group. Not too far from him, Harry saw Ron's red hair and just in front of him Draco. A familiar light seemed to lead the blonde and the Gryffindor knew Dervla was leading the way. Wherever his teammates went, Harry, Ron and Draco would be the first to find Kowaku and Bellatrix's daughter. Leaning lower on his broom, Harry caught up with Ron, exchanging glances.

"Impulsive bugger, isn't he," Ron grunted.

"Apparently," Harry said. "Always did want things to go his way."

"Since when is he 'Drake'?"

Harry sighed and resisted the urge to fly on, ignoring Ron's question. "Ask me another time, Ron. I swear I'll answer."

"You better, you git. Herm's not cooperating one bit."

Barely resisting a smile, Harry shrugged apologetically and thanked Hermione silently. He wasn't sure he could deal with a fully informed Ron at this point. Both Gryffindors sped up to fly inches from Draco's right and left, who did not even look back, but kept his eyes firmly on Dervla, mumbling incantation after incantation. The little dragon seemed to flicker now and then, as if tired, but every time Draco pushed her further, taking turn after turn in the maze. Harry realised the basement went far beyond the grounds of Wool's Orphanage and wondered if it had always been like this.

The narrow halls suddenly stopped and the three men barely had time to register their surroundings, before spells started flashing around them. Green and red sparks banged into the stone walls, exploding into thousands little specks of light. Cursing, Harry let himself drop to the side, twirling in a downward spiral, avoiding the spells and casting his own, all the while trying not to lose sight of one particular platinum head. Draco seemed to have some sort of death wish, not relinquishing Dervla from her task and heading straight for the wall, opposite of the one they had emerged from, Ron in his tow. Harry caught eye of a hooded figure to his right, extended his wand and slammed the man into a stalactite with the force of his spell. His body went tumbling down and the Head Auror would have cast a cushioning spell on him, had he not been forced to protect himself. A green flash missed him by inches. He dove for a second, luring his opponent with him, before turning in mid-drop, his broom now facing up instead of down and stunning the surprised dark wizard. Finally Harry got a few second to take in his surroundings and noticed several of his Aurors had joined in the fight. Regardless how young the Lestrange daughter was, she had managed to gather quite a few followers and his team had its hands full holding them off. Surviving.

His jaw set tightly, the Gryffindor sought for Draco and saw him – meters away - head for a cave in the opposing wall, where weak light flickered, throwing shadows against all walls. Instantly, Harry was on his tail, hoping he would be in time to prevent the Slytherin from doing something stupid. Kingsley would have his hide otherwise. On his way there, he was thwarted several times, each time losing precious seconds, minutes even. Flashes of spells emerged from the cave and he knew he was too late. Speeding up, Harry practically catapulted himself over the rim and nearly collided with a stalactite on his way in. Looping around the obstacle, he watched four still figures, caught in a deadly impasse and turned the broom, coming to a sudden halt. Panting slightly, he watched the scene.

Bellatrix's daughter had her mother's good looks from before her pre-Azkaban days and the same mad glint in her eyes. Her clawlike fingers were clamped tightly over Kowaku's pale neck and her wand almost pierced the skin. Draco stood opposite of her, legs spread out, wand in his left hand. Blood trickled down his wand arm onto the ground, making cold noises as it touched stone. Ron stood to the blonde's right, wand raised as well. Unlike her features, the girl's voice was nothing like her mother's. It was low and soft, like velvet.

"So many friends all of a sudden, Draco Malfoy? And one of them the famous Harry Potter no less."


	37. Redemption

Hurray for another update. I wanted to thank all of you who recently added this story or myself to their favourites as well as the reviews. Keep more reviews coming my way, if you please, cause I feel a bit rusty. ^^

~ Anvan

She sneered as she made brief eye contact with Harry, then rested her eyes on Draco again. Harry took the opportunity to look at Kowaku. The young woman looked bruised, but mainly positively furious, her blue eyes as cold as ice, and it made the Gryffindor smile inwardly. Apparently she was a brave one. Perhaps worthy of Gryffindor House had she not been a Squibb. It could be to their advantage, if she still had her wits about her.

"See, that's what bothers me about you, Malfoy," she said, spitting out the name. "First your family helps bring back Voldemort, unleashing terrible pain and mayhem on the Wizarding World. Then, because mommy is scared for her little boy's life, she changes sides again and I lose my mother. I don't think anyone in either camp was ever so egocentric as the Malfoys."

Draco made a disdainful face at her, reminiscent of his Hogwarts days. It distracted Harry for a second, seeing the old Draco Malfoy again. His voice was exactly the same. It had taunted Harry many a time in that same tone.

"I don't know, little one," he drawled. "It seems to me you are doing quite well too in the egotistical department. You even have minions to carry out your bidding. At least I'm here to confront you myself."

"Exactly," she said, her voice still calm. It bothered Harry that she was so coolheaded. "Don't try to get under my skin, hoping I'll make a mistake so you can kill me."

Draco's head jerked ever so slightly and the girl smiled brilliantly.

"Oh, yes, Draco. I see murder in your eyes. Will you be able to do now, what you could not six years ago?"

Harry felt the blood drain from his own face. _Dumbledore…_ He moved at the same time he saw Draco's left arm shudder. For a second he thought he had been mistaken about the Lestrange girl's intentions, but when he felt the excruciating pain instead of Kowaku he knew he had been right. Someone yelled, as he collapsed to the rocky ground. Even with his eyes closed in pain, he saw the flashes of spells against his eyelids. A foot caught him between the ribs and Harry found the strength to roll away. Slowly, the effects diminished and he fought the dizziness that threatened to overcome him as he opened his eyes.

The Lestrange girl practically dragged Kowaku by the hair to the back of the cave, trying to get to one of the exits to the maze. Draco shot green spell after green spell at her, but the girl was talented and two of her minions had come to the rescue. Ron was mostly trying to prevent Draco from being killed, casting protection spells. Harry rolled over, grunting and cursing the Crucio curse. He never would get used to the feeling. Drawing on his reserves, he shook his head a few times, chasing the painful stars and started running after his friends.

Kowaku resisted with all her might, but Harry could tell she had been weakened. At every chance she got the Lestrange daughter cursed her, pushing her deeper within her lair. Draco was unstoppable, drawing steadily closer, his aim becoming more accurate with every second. Bellatrix's daughter lacked experience and she would eventually succumb to the DADA professor's onslaught. Harry doubted Draco felt like being merciful.

"Drake," he yelled. Contrary to what Harry had expected, the blonde threw a look over his shoulder and for a brief second relief lit up the silver stormy eyes, before he returned his attention to the battle. Ron made a frantic hand movement at Harry, who launched himself back into the fight with a well-aimed stunner. More dark wizards came pouring behind them and the Head Auror feared for his team. They needed to disarm the explosive situation as soon as possible, before…

Angrily at the possible outcome of the event, Harry dodged a spell, dove underneath Draco's arm, and aimed at Kowaku. Whispering the words rather than shouting them, the young woman's body jerked within her capturer's grasp. Once, twice, thrice, before being pulled free. Immediately Harry felt Ron join in the effort, as they Imperioed Draco's sister towards them. Bellatrix's daughter screamed irately and threw herself forward to get hold of her escaping victim. Within seconds Draco stood between his sister and her. Ron threw his arms around Kowaku. The black-haired girl tripped and fell to her knees.

"Go!" Harry shouted at Ron, who instantly disapparated, taking Kowaku with him.

The Slytherin looked down at the girl at his feet, his silver eyes almost black in these surroundings. Harry saw the girl tremble, but then her jaws clenched and she rose, standing inches from the blonde, her wand at the ready.

"Give it up," Harry said. "There is no need to keep fighting. Call off your people."

"I will do no such thing," the girl said stubbornly. "I kidnapped that woman to get to him. He is the reason my mother died. My mother was loyal to her master. They were not."

Harry whirled round and round, keeping the dark wizards at bay and was relieved to see his team members appear at the rim of the cave, in the distance. The amount of dark wizards was limited after all, he thought.

"Sometimes family outranks loyalty to outsiders," Harry said.

"Of course you'd say that," she said, turning her black eyes on him. "Your damn mother died for you."

The next second Draco's hand was around her neck. Harry wasn't sure if he had ever seen the blonde so… dangerous. Impressive. Huge. It was as if his magic swelled up inside him, expanded his aura to the point of enveloping the girl. She yelped, nearly dropping her wand, but then clutching at his hand with her wandfree hand. His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but sent chills down Harry's spine, hoping he would never have to hear it speak that way ever again.

"I could kill you for laying your hands on my sister. I could kill you for the things you said."

The blonde paused and the girl trembled within his grasp, incapable of using her wand. Harry guessed Draco had cast a spell on her, rendering her defenceless.

"Drake, don't kill her," he said. "She's just a kid."

Throwing Harry a look that could have frozen his blood, the blonde turned his attention back to the girl.

"Next time you enter my life, you are a dead woman," he whispered, the words only audible to the girl, who fought back the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Of course I won't kill her," Draco said, louder this time. "She's just like me, when I was younger. Except that she doesn't have a mother to look after her."

This time the girl began to cry in earnest and Draco let her drop to the ground unceremoniously. She crumpled to a sobbing heap. The blonde turned round, the air still thicker around him and eyed the remainder of the girl's men, who halted in their footsteps at the sight. Standing next to Harry, Draco raised his wand and made a questioning move with it. Harry's team finally closed in from behind and the dark wizards turned round, facing them, but making no attempt at attacking.

"That's what I thought," Draco said calmly.

"Damn bastards," the girl snarled. "_Sectumsempra!_"

Harry felt a shove and got slammed into a wall. The next second, Draco was lying at his feet, blood appearing through his clothes. The Gryffindor felt his stomach turn. Bellatrix's daughter rose to her feet, quick as a snake, her eyes ablaze with fury and the clear intent to kill. He saw her lips form the words rather than hear them and reacted upon instinct.

_Avada Keda…_

_Revertovis!_

Her slim body fell to the floor like a heap of rags. Harry sank through his knees, not even looking at her and turned Draco around in his arms. Disbelievingly he looked down upon the pale, bloody face.

"She should survive. Get her and her minions to the Wizengamot immediately," he ordered his men. "I will be at St Mungo's."

Without waiting for a reaction, Harry gently wrapped his arms around Draco and disapparated straight into St Mungo's. Several Mediwitches asked to check Harry, since he wasn't looking too well himself, but the Head Auror kept refusing, the scene of what had happened replaying over and over in his head.

Draco had stepped in front of the curse.

His hands were shaking and Harry felt angry at… at… Merlin knew what. He just felt angry. Guilty. And o so confused. Sectumsempra could be lethal. Burying his face in his hands, Harry groaned.

_Merlin, what have I done? I took Draco along… Fuck. _

He watched the wall opposite of him, staring at the soft green. Staring. Hoping to find an answer.

_I need to talk to Ginny. Before I sink into this mess even deeper._


	38. Brown Eyes

To Hyper Hippie: I can do this ^^ for one, Harry's too kind a person to not talk to her and secondly, delay is a necessary evil. *insert insane laughter here*

Apart from that, do enjoy and leave reviews, please!

~ Anvan

* * *

After informing about Draco's condition, the Gryffindor was told that the blonde was still being taken care of and would not awaken any time soon.

"We suspect he will awaken somewhere during the night, but he will have to stay in bed for a few days."

Harry nodded, then disapparated. Things had to go fast and although he did not feel like it, he first had to pass by Kingsley's office. The moment he appeared in front of the Minister, Kingsley's dark eyes rested on Harry angrily.

"I thought I told you to leave the man out of it."

Harry yanked at his hair helplessly. "I know, Minister, but it is his sister. I knew that if I forbade him to come, he would just come after me. It seemed better to keep him as close as possible."

Kingsley snorted. "It will have to do for an explanation. I will speak on your behalf, as always."

Harry nodded gratefully. "Has Ron come in?"

"Yes, together with Miss Malfoy. She is still present in the Ministry, in the Auror department. I think the rest of your team is filling her in on the situation. You might want to reassure her about her brother."

"I will make sure to pass by her," the Head Auror said. "Do you need me around for anything else tonight?"

"No," Kingsley murmured. "It is late and I suggest you and your team get some rest. The reports can be dealt with tomorrow."

"Very well. See you tomorrow, Minister."

Harry was glad Kingsley did not want him around for the night. Ginny would hate him for waking her up, but he really felt it could not wait. His thoughts stumbling over one another, he found his way to his office, where Ron, Kowaku and his team were spread over desks and chairs. The mirroring image of Draco immediately rose from her chair when she saw him.

"My brother," she said rather calmly. "Is he alright?" Her eyes belied her tone.

"He will be," Harry told her, in the best reassuring tone he could muster. "They are taking care of him at St Mungo's. It might be wise for you to go there too, for a check-up and you can visit him."

Before she could react, he addressed his team. "Guys, good work today. Kingsley said we should get a good night's rest and do the reports tomorrow."

All of the men, except for Ron, rose from their seats, bid their goodbyes to Kowaku and left. The woman looked at Harry.

"Won't you join me to St Mungo's?"

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking at her apologetically. "I have something else I need to take care of first."

He paused for a second, thinking whether or not to say it with Ron present. But then again, he needed his best friend to take Kowaku to St Mungo's, so he could not send him off.

"Before I see him again, I need to see someone else," he added, a careful eye on Ron.

"That girl," Kowaku said. "The little redhead."

Immediately she turned towards Ron, her hand over her mouth. "Oh, dear…"

"You could say that," Ron grunted, turning an angry frown on Harry. "What do you need to tell Ginny at this hour that's so important, mate?"

"Ron," Harry started, rubbing his hand over his face, wondering how the hell he was supposed to explain this. "I just need to tie together a few loose ends, before I… I…"

His voice trailed off, while Ron kept looking at him expectantly.

"I can guess," the redhead said eventually, a cross and doubtful expression on his face. "Though you're one right git to trust the guy."

"You sound like Hermione," Harry said with a smile.

"Well, she _is_ the smart one."

"Can you take Kowaku to St Mungo's then?"

"I will," Ron said, eyeing Draco's sister, before glancing over at Harry again. "Take it easy on Ginny. She won't do the same for you, but that's deserved."

The dark-haired man made a face at his best friend, before disapparating to Ginny's place. After they had broken up 'for real' for the umpteenth time, she had bought a little terraced house in the centre of London, sick of renting and re-renting places with Harry or moving back to the Burrow. Harry remembered the last time he had been to the Burrow and the slightly confronting talk he'd had to endure with Mrs. Weasley, so he was secretly happy Ginny lived alone now.

He rang the bell a few times and breathlessly watched for any movement inside, trying not to rehearse or imagine what he was about to discuss. He saw her walk down the stairs through the glass front door and then found himself eye to eye with Ginny's dark brown eyes. They seemed not to compare to Draco's, he thought absurdly, then scolded himself mentally for thinking that.

"Merlin, Harry, what're you doing here at this hour?" She rubbed her eyes, clearly still sleepy, but then looked at him worriedly. "Nothing's happened to Ron, has there?"

"Ron's perfectly fine, Ginny," Harry said quickly. "Actually… I need… want to talk to you."

His ex-girlfriend was now wide awake and stared at him for several long seconds, her eyes unreadable. Quietly Harry waited, his mind as blank as it could possibly be considering circumstances. Eventually she gestured him inside without another word, closing the door behind him. The fact that she didn't just send him walking was not a good sign, Harry thought. The Gryffindor followed her straight into the small but cosy living room and sat down in the single couch. He tried to ignore her raised eyebrows at that move, as she sat down in the double couch.

"So what is so urgent then?" she asked, her voice steady and her question straight to the point.

Always the Gryffindor, Harry raised his chin and looked her square in the face observing her for a few seconds, wondering whether or not he truly was going mad. An experienced Auror had once told him this job could cost him his sanity, but… he doubted that moment had arrived. Uneasy under his gaze, Ginny fidgeted with the sleeves of her night gown and frowned at him.

"Harry…" Her tone was suddenly soft, which made his head snap up a bit.

"Ginny," he echoed her tone unwillingly. "I am not here for the reason you think I am."

"Which is?"

Grimacing, he cursed her ability to go straight for the core of the issue, but then realised it was partly why he had always liked her so much. Right now however, it forced him to move faster than he felt like, knowing he would hurt her. He looked to the right down the little hall, leading to the front door and watched the street lights in the distance.

"I am not here to start over with you," he then said openly as he looked at her again. It was as if he saw the words falling from his mouth and dropping to the ground, lying like heavy things, accusations between them.

Ginny's reaction was different than he expected it to be, as she leaned her elbows on her knees and just looked at him. "I've heard you say that before, Harry. Why would it be any different now? Because it's four at night?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, he remembered all the times he had spoken those words, after which she would convince him of the opposite, or he would convince himself again that perhaps it could work after all… Indeed, why should Ginny believe him now?

"Because there is someone else," he said, folding his hands under his chin.

They sat opposite each other, each leaning forward and searching the other's face for reactions, emotions… He found it hard now to read her face, knowing there had been a time when he could see whatever was going on in her mind. A terrible sense of loss washed over him. This could cost him a very dear friend, who had lived through and stood by him in difficult times. Strictly speaking, he might lose her for someone who was partly responsible for those difficult times…

_Draco has changed._

"Tell me," she said gently, interrupting his disturbing thoughts. "I think that's the least you can do."

Harry sighed softly and made a gesture at her to be patient, not knowing where to begin nor how to truly explain something he himself could not even grasp. Yet he heard himself begin to speak, to tell the whole story from the beginning… From the day he walked into Hogwarts to literally bump into Draco again, to find himself on a mission with the man…

Words suddenly seemed eager to find their way out and contrary to the earlier ones, these were light as feathers, despite Harry's confusion and wonderment about the situation and Draco Malfoy. He felt himself enjoying talking about Draco. Ginny did not move a muscle throughout his whole story, except that at one point she put a hand on his knee, which Harry did not brush off.

It felt like the hand of a friend.

"I… Gin, I don't know… what happened. Earlier, when I turned him over… I have lost so many people over the years. I have watched friends, colleagues get killed and lost family to the war."

Harry rested his head in his hands, leaning his forehead to his knees. Ginny's hand brushed his hair as he did so and he felt her get off the couch, shuffling closer over the floor. "It feels like madness… I don't even know how he thinks about it. Hell, I don't even know if this is the wisest thing to do…"

He smiled ruefully against his knees. "I don't seem to know a lot, do I?"

"Well," he heard Ginny murmur. "You never really did when it comes to these things."

"Ginny…"

Her name was nothing but a whisper on his breath and Harry felt his chest heave with sudden inexplicable grief. Without a word, she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. It felt pleasantly familiar, but he also felt her tears against his skin. Quickly he slid off the couch onto his knees and wrapped his arms around her kindly.

"I'm so sorry, Gin," he whispered. More senseless words seemed to follow, as did his sadness. Her words echoed his own, as she too apologised, though neither one truly knew what for. They sat in the embrace, murmuring words to each other, some making more sense than others, and at one point he heard her whisper "It's okay, Harry, I understand," when suddenly he felt her warm, wet lips touch his. Her grip around his neck tightened as she pulled him into a full body contact embrace.

The Head Auror's mind went blank for a second, allowing Ginny to pull him closer and Harry had to place his hands on either side of her to prevent himself from falling on top of her. As she released him, her brown eyes were sad, yet friendly. "I'm sorry about that," she began, but he lifted a hand, cutting her short.

"It's fine," he said, only half lying and pulling away from her. "I get it. I think."

Then footsteps at the door drew his attention. Fearful that one of the dark wizards might have escaped and followed him here, Harry jumped up, ran through the hall to pull open the front door. In a split second he watched the black shape of a billowing cape and an all too familiar blonde head disapparate. Swearing loudly, he ran into the darkness. Seconds later Ginny stood beside him, linking an arm through his.

"Draco?"

Looking grim, Harry nodded, staring at the night as if it would make Draco reappear.

"Excellent timing," she said calmly.


	39. What Will It Take?

Hello to all of you who read and reviewed. I'm glad to see this story is picking up again, for it has made me very happy to read your reviews!

Emilia: Thank you very much for that compliment. It's hard to judge whether or not I'm on a right road, but thanks so much for that one.

Ronnie: *laughs* I'm not big fan of Ginny in her possessive mode, so yes, hard to write her that way even if I wanted to.

Littlesprout, Hyps and Stitches: Curious why all three of you think she planned that. You'll see in this chapter ^^

Enjoy the read!

~ Anvan

* * *

"Gin," the Head Auror said in a warning tone.

"I'm not saying it's funny," she protested, carefully wiping her face with her sleeve. "I'm just saying he has excellent timing."

She shrugged her shoulders. "That, and I might be a bit happy that he had to see that. After all, he took you away from me."

"How very Slytherin of you," Harry noted dryly.

She snorted inelegantly. "At least I'm not a real Slytherin. Wait here."

"For what?" Harry called after her impatiently, thinking he was wasting time, but not knowing where to find Draco.

She returned within seconds. "For this," she said, as she held out a small vial. "Throw it down where you saw him leave and it will instantly take you to wherever he disapparated. Here's another one in case he pulled the same trick twice. I don't have any more."

Speechless, Harry looked at the vials and then at Ginny, before hugging her tight. She smiled at him bravely. "Be off."

Not needing more encouragement, Harry quickly stepped to where he'd seen Draco leave and threw down the vial. In a cloud of purple smoke, he felt something lurch at his insides, which seemed familiar, yet different and then found himself standing on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Quickly scanning the surroundings Harry sensed and saw that Draco was nowhere on the premises. The wet grass held a few footprints, which seemed to go in a random pattern, like a man without a goal, before they abruptly stopped in the middle of the garden. Relieved, the Gryffindor stood there and threw the other vial as well, reliving the strange sensation of second-hand disapparation.

This time he found himself in the middle of a very familiar little garden, which surprised Harry. Looking around to make sure he was not mistaken – darkness could alter surroundings quite a lot – his eyes confirmed his initial thought: this was his cottage. Feeling oddly content about the fact that Draco had come here, his second thought went to the fact whether or not the Slytherin was on a destructive spree. Deciding it was best not to call out for a pissed off Draco Malfoy, Harry walked up to the backdoor of the cottage. The door stood ajar, so he stepped inside, where it was completely dark.

"You in here?"

The silence that followed was pointed and Harry practically sensed Draco's magical aura. Sighing, he gave a little snap of his fingers and all over the house several candles lit up. In the middle of his living room, Draco was standing rigid, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

_At least he doesn't have his wand at the ready_, Harry thought darkly.

The Slytherin looked downright awful in his state of being. Yet Harry knew better than to point that out to him now. Draco's silver eyes rested on Harry heavily and the Gryffindor raised his head defiantly.

"Whatever you're thinking, Drake, you're wrong."

His hands rose in a soothing gesture, as Harry walked closer to Draco. The blonde had no intention of moving, but merely tilted his head slightly, looking at his friend with fury in his eyes.

"I know you saw what happened, but it means nothing. In fact, after what happened to you, the first thing I wanted to was to explain things to Ginny, so I could clear my own head and…"

Harry felt himself start to babble, but continued at any rate, bent on convincing Draco of… Merlin knew what. What was he working towards anyway? Bits and pieces of the conversation with Ginny were reconstructed, and all the while the blonde stood rigid, until eventually his silver eyes flew up and locked with Harry's, fuming.

"I have no reason to believe any of your words, Potter," Draco spat. "I never thought a Gryffindor could lie so skilfully, but it seems you picked up a few things along the road."

Speechless, Harry stood opposite his friend, mouth hanging still in the last word uttered mid-sentence. The switch to the use of his last name probably shocked him most of all, but he figured that was not the main point. Perhaps even a difficult habit to lose, he thought briefly, before reacting.

"She was saying goodbye!"

"And that's how you say goodbye to all your exes, I'm sure, or your friends too perhaps?"

"Dammit, Draco," Harry growled. "I told her about us, about you, about everything! She didn't even get angry about it. Like I said, we talked and…"

"She talked you out of it. I know betrayal when I see it."

Harry yanked at his hair roughly at the interruption. "Merlin, you really are bitchy. Will you just shut up for a second?"

"No!"

Draco kept yelling abuse at Harry, while the Gryffindor zoned out, cursing Ginny somewhere in between angry thoughts. Again he yanked at his hair, to which Draco threw in a complaint about that too, before venturing on into his tantrum.

"What's it going to take to make you understand," Harry yelled, turning on his heels.

"Nothing you have to offer," the Slytherin snapped heatedly. "Nothing you can afford!"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the insults. They were so familiar, so well-known, and so _young_ that he felt hurled back years into the past, to the very beginning of his career at Hogwarts.

"Okay, fine," Harry said, taking one last leap of faith. "Where do you want to go?"

This shut the blonde up. Draco stopped mid-sentence and focused his stormy silver eyes on Harry.

"What?"

"We'll go away," Harry said. "Where do you want to go?"

"What… What do you mean: 'go away'?" the blonde asked, gesturing impatiently. "You mean elope?"

"Yes, elope. Go away. Run away. Get the fuck out of here, or however you want to call it," Harry said desperately.

"You would do that? Leave everyone and everything behind? The Ministry and your job as Head Auror."

Harry felt the blood drain from his face, but nodded, his mouth suddenly dry.

"The Weasel _and _the Muggle-born? Teddy?"

To his own disbelief the Gryffindor nodded again, lips set in a tight line, trying not to think of the immorality of his answers.

"You would do all that?"

"If that is what it takes, yes," Harry said carefully, taking a step towards the blonde.

"This is one of your brawny Gryffindor bluffs," the blonde snorted. "Nothing more."

"Dammit, Draco! What is it going to take?"

"What is _what_ going to take? Be clear on the subject for once," Draco hissed.

Now it was Harry's turn to gape. "What?"

Draco just gave him The Look and Harry raised his hands in annoyed submission.


	40. Bring Out The Worst In Me

*hides* Oh, dear, you guys are going to _hate_ me for this. Apparently, and I swear it is mostly unconscious, I have a knack for ending on cliff-hangers. By no means meant to taunt you – not on purpose – but I do know that I prefer to read books with cliff-hangers myself.

Do forgive me, my beloved readers.

Dawn: That review made me laugh out loud! *rofl* I sincerely hope Hyps was revived one way or another? Jumpercables, maybe?

Hang in there with me, okay, because I'm likely to pull this stunt some more. Apart from that, I'm very pleased people are ... curious, let's say, for more.

~ Anvan

* * *

"If that's what it takes to make you understand that kiss with Ginny meant nothing, except goodbye."

The following silence tipped Harry off that the answer wasn't sufficient. A bit cross the dark-haired man swallowed hard, his mouth still dry and felt a blush creep up his cheekbones. Draco eyed the view contently.

"I… I mean what I say, Drake. I would leave it all behind, if that's what it takes to prove to you that you're the only one I want to kiss."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, breathing in deeply and opened them to look into Draco's soul, green eyes locking with silver.

"That I _do_ love you, regardless what you may think."

The radiant smile that Draco bestowed upon his Gryffindor – make no mistake, from now on that was what Harry was – cleared Harry's head of any further shyness. He blinked a few times at the sight, returning the smile without realising. Before he managed to say anything else, Draco closed the remaining distance between them, throwing his arms around Harry's neck.

"About time you realised that, Green-Eyes," Draco breathed darkly against Harry's lips.

The Gryffindor artfully blocked any other words from coming out and kissed his lover. They stumbled backwards until Draco's back touched wooden wall and Harry's arms were on either side, trapping the Slytherin. The blonde growled appreciatively at Harry's onslaught. _More…_ Their bodies intertwined, no longer contained by any inhibitions, shame or uncertainty. Harry's green eyes shot open at the magnitude of feelings welling up inside him. Draco in turn let out an animalistic groan, grinding his hips against Harry, whose eyes immediately slid shut in appreciation. Then their interaction was roughly broken off, as the blonde sank through his knees with a distinctly non-sensual groan. Instinctively Harry followed his friend, preventing a too harsh collision with the ground and earning a painful knee for it. Murmuring the blonde's name, Harry wrapped him securely in his arms.

"You shouldn't be out of St. Mungo's, should you?"

His chest heaving like mad, Draco looked up, his eyes failing to conceal the pain he felt.

"Not really, but they would not tell me how you were or where. So I threw a tantrum."

Harry made a disbelieving face at his lover and could imagine the scene all too well to his liking.

"They did not know where I was," he pointed out crossly, to which Draco shrugged.

"Not my problem," he grunted, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. "All I knew was that you'd been hit by a Crucio and that you weren't at St. Mungo's. Hence."

"Hence you scared the shyte out of the personnel and then decided to escape?"

"More like told them no one can hold a Malfoy against their will and walked out. Trying not to sink through my knees the way I did now. Shameful."

Giving his explanation a half heartedly disapproving snort, Harry sat down, resting Draco against his chest. "Still, how did you know where to find me?"

Draco looked up again, this time upside down against Harry's chest, and gave a distinctly young impression of himself as he smiled cutely. "I intended to force the information out of your fellow Auror."

"Ron? Good luck with that."

Nodding, Draco squirmed until he was as comfortable as he could get, wincing now and then at the movements. His breathe had calmed down, Harry noticed.

"So I noticed. He's a lot less easy to impress," Draco said in a disappointed tone. "I'm sure I could have gotten him to talk, but Ko told me you'd gone to find your ex."

"I'm glad you didn't push the subject, because I'm sure he would not have told you. Either way, I need to get you back."

"I'm fine."

Harry purposely poked Draco's sides, not too harshly, but enough to make the other hiss in pain.

"Exactly," the Gryffindor said smugly. "Let's go." Before Draco could react, they disapparated straight into St. Mungo's.

Rising to his feet, the blonde was faster and despite his state of being managed to put on his best authoritarian face. "Please take care of Mr Harry Potter here. He's been hit with a Crucio curse, playing the hero, and Merlin knows what else. Hop to it."

Harry started to protest, but the same Mediwitch that had taken in Draco now eyed him angrily. "I told you you needed to stay here. You look terrible."

"Thank you," the Gryffindor smiled dryly. "But I'm not the one with Sectumsempra on me," he pointed at Draco's still bloody shirt, although the stains were beginning to dry up.

"They already applied the Dittany on me," Draco retorted. "Get him out of here."

The Mediwitch, having heard enough, shoved Harry into the rolling bed and made a sign at several other people, who wheeled Harry out of sight. At that exact moment, Draco slumped against the wall and sank to his knees again.

"You bring out the worst in me, Harry," he whispered before passing out.

Harry woke to find two familiar if somewhat blurry faces looking at him. He had lived through enough with them to recognise them without his glasses.

"Hi, Mione. Hi, Ron," he smiled. Immediately he felt two strong arms grip his neck, as Hermione squeezed him flat, babbling how happy she was to see him okay.

"If you got money for every time she said that," Ron said, and then received a playful slap from the young woman.

"Yeah," Harry smirked. "You'd think with two Aurors in her life she'd get used to it."

"That's what you get with a desk job," Ron nodded, smirking as Hermione's face seemed to blow up in a hissy fit.

"I'll have you two know that you would not be alive today if it wasn't for me."

"Yes, Mione," both men said semi-submissive, before all three of them got slight giggles.

"Seriously, Harry," Hermione murmured as she sat on the edge of his bed, pulling one knee under her. "I'm glad you're okay. Ron said both you and Draco acted rather foolishly, jumping in front of spells and such."

"I've done it before," Harry protested sourly. "For Ron even."

"Yeah, with Stunners and that kind of stuff," Ron grimaced. "Not with the darker spells."

"Not true," the dark-haired man said stubbornly. "Does Kingsley know?"

"I suppose," Ron shrugged. "The paper work of the other team members has been delivered already."

Groaning, Harry sank a bit deeper into the mattress. Then realisation dawned upon him.

"How long have I been sleeping?"

"About a day," Hermione said.

"The mini Lestrange is in Azkaban?"

"She never made it that far," Ron replied carefully. "There were more wizards who supported her and they tried to free her. She actually escaped."

Feeling the blood drain from his face, Harry sat up again. "Please don't tell me…"

Nodding, Ron made a face and cast his eyes down for a few seconds. "Actually, yes. Draco got to her first."

"He made a racket at the Minister's office about the incompetence of the crew, about the security of victims and escort services of criminals, even blew up a few chairs as he stormed out of Kingsley's office," Hermione said, her eyes wide as she remembered the scene.

"You were there?" Harry asked to which she nodded.

"The Minister stayed really calm," Hermione continued. "Said he'd do everything he could to catch her again, but Draco just left."

"He got to her first," Ron repeated and shrugged noncommittally.

They sat in silence for a while, as Harry twisted his fingers into the sheets, until eventually he could not take it any longer. "And? What the hell happened?"

A bit taken aback, Hermione looked at him, her brows furrowed and leaned in. "Well, she died, Harry. He killed her."

Cursing, the Head Auror threw the blankets off his body, got out of the bed and put on his clothes. Ron and Hermione started protesting at the same time, babbling and walking around him.

Hermione stood half behind Ron, as Harry glowered at them both. "Where is he? That's all I need to know."

"We can't tell you. Kingsley forbade it."

"What? Why!"

"Because he knew you'd react like this," Ron said calmly. "The man isn't stupid."

"Beside the point, Ron," Harry growled. "All I need to know is where they took him."

"Probably to Azkaban."


	41. The Wizengamot

Hi all,

Sorry for the delay. Been a tad busy. Here is the – I presume – awaited next chapter.

MagickBeing: Haha, I'm glad this kind of thing happens. Like one line in a story gets you. ^^ I always love it myself when I read. I'm glad you kept reading, despite the lost sibling storyline.

Dawn: Hyps stalks you? Well, she seems good fun. Could be worse people stalking you.

Enjoy next bit!

~ Anvan

* * *

"Mione," Ron yelled.

"What," she yelled back. "I can't lie to him, Ron, I just can't."

"You could keep his secret from me!"

"That was different," she moped. "They'll probably take him to Azkaban. He tortured and killed her."

"He would not do that without a reason," Harry immediately said, knowing he sounded like a cheated lover who just received proof of his partner's unfaithfulness.

"Kowaku," Hermione said through tight lips.

"Dammit," Harry cursed. "All that in one day? Never mind, I'll go find the man. Considering his past, they won't give him a chance."

"People want justice. They consider Draco just as bad as Bellatrix and her kin, if not worse for the mere fact that he survived," Ron said as gently as he could. "Kingsley doesn't want you in the middle of this."

"He'll have no choice," Harry gritted through clenched teeth, as he stalked out of the room. Then he seemed to reconsider and poked his head back around the corner. "Thanks for telling me, guys. I'll tell him you put up a fight, Ron."

"I'm sure he'll believe you," Ron said miserably, putting an arm around Hermione. "Good luck, mate." Hermione waved cutely at him, looking more worried than miserable, and Harry vanished, unable to think of anything but a locked up Draco about to be brought to justice that was biased.

Once outside he disapparated into Kingsley's office to find it empty. It was not in his nature to call on the Minister without good reason, but this was an emergency, even if only of the personal kind. Without hesitation he cast his Patronus, to find Kingsley and deliver the message to slow down the Wizengamot. To his relief, there was a reply within ten seconds, telling him the process was already at hand. Cursing Harry dashed through the halls of the Ministry, practically running down the doors to the Wizengamot and drawing all attention to him. Dozens of eyes rested on Harry, looking alternately disturbed, surprised and annoyed.

"Yes, Mr Potter?" the Chief Warlock said, whom Harry recognised as Alex Latto.

Catching his breathe, Harry stepped closer, finding almost all of the Wizengamot present and Draco sitting in the middle of the room, where he had once been when they had accused him of using underage magic. The blonde looked at the dark-haired man, but his face betrayed no emotions.

"I'd like to be part of this hearing, Chief Warlock Latto. The man on the stand is a friend of mine."

Several exclamations of wonder and amazement, even outrage, suddenly filled the air and this time Harry caught The Look on Draco's face, as the blonde lowered his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. Alex Latto leaned over his desk and looked down at Harry sceptically. "A _friend_ of yours?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed as he walked to the middle of the room. "And I would like to know what he's being accused of."

Breathing in deeply, the Chief Warlock sat up straight again and maintained eye contact with Harry. "He's being accused of the torture of and murder on Ira Lestrange."

"What were the circumstances?"

"Circumstances matter not when it comes to Unspeakables," a Witch replied hotly.

"They do, if there is murder of family involved."

"No one said family members were murdered, Mr Potter," Alex Latto said. "Although Miss Malfoy's condition remains uncertain, she is not dead."

"She might as well be," Draco said darkly. "Chances are very slim she'll recover from Miss Lestrange's _treatment_."

"That is not the issue at hand, Mr Malfoy," the Chief Warlock said calmly. "The matter at hand is that Mr Malfoy used Unspeakables on an underaged Witch, who was unable to defend herself. Considering his past, we cannot allow this to go by."

"I'd say your judgement is biased when you bring up his past over _this_. Who says she could not defend herself?" Harry asked.

"Watch your words, Mr Potter," Alex said warningly. "The explanation came from Mr Malfoy himself."

Harry's head snatched to the side, glaring at Draco, who pointedly refused to acknowledge the other man. Sensing something off about the whole scenario, the Gryffindor took a step forward, raising his right hand.

"Did anyone bother to check the truthfulness in his words?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" Draco suddenly snapped.

Now it was Harry's turn to ignore his friend, but Draco was not used to such a treatment.

"Don't you dare ignore me, Harry…"

"With all due respect," Harry broke off any other whining. "But I do think you're true to your kind, being a lying Slytherin and I think the Wizengamot should allow the use of Veritaserum on you."

"Give us a good reason to question his words, Mr Potter."

"Apart from the fact that he's a Slytherin and no Slytherin would ever lie his way _into_ Azkaban?" Harry sighed and yanked at his hair, after which a ghost of a compassionate look flashed over Draco's face.

"Chief Warlock Latto, I ask this because I know things about Draco that make me believe he is lying…"

"Like you say, Harry, why would any man _want_ to go to Azkaban?" Kingsley pitched in.

Looking Kingsley and then the Chief Warlock straight in the eyes, Harry breathed out deeply, before exchanging glances with Draco. "I hope you'll forgive me for this one, Drake," he smiled sadly, and then turned back to Alex.

"Because he believes he deserves to be there. Not because of the death of Miss Lestrange, but because of his past and the fact that he and he alone survived to build a new life."

The silence that fell was deafening and Harry dared not look at his blonde companion. Resisting the urge to pull at his hair again, he opened and closed his left hand on impulse, waiting for anyone to react. Then several people started talking at once, some voices demanding the Veritaserum, others yelling abuse and raking up the past now. In the middle, Draco glowered at Harry, who finally turned sideways and looked at the Slytherin.

"You will regret this," Draco whispered lowly.


	42. What an Exit

Another chappie up. All's well in the world.

~ Anvan

* * *

Alex called for order for several minutes, before everyone obliged and there was some sort of peace again, though murmurs insisted.

"Draco Malfoy," Alex said. "Is this true?"

"No."

"Merlin's pants," Harry growled. "Give him the serum already. He'll just keep lying otherwise!"

"Harry, mind your tone," Kingsley called him to order.

"Minister, I refuse to believe that he would have tortured and killed her. I was there when he had the chance and when she gave him every reason to. He did not kill her then and I do not think he would have killed her now. Please, Alex, give the man the serum and have him tell the story or we'll never see the end of this. Do you honestly want an innocent man to go to Azkaban, because some people here can not get over the past?"

"I'll remind you, Head Auror Potter, that these are the wisest Wizards and Witches of our society and they will do no such thing."

"Even wise people can have emotions cloud their judgement," Harry said stubbornly, earning a crooked grin from Draco, who was clearly loving the fact that the Gryffindor was kicking about every shin in the vicinity.

Alex stared from Harry to Draco, and then nodded. "Very well then. Fetch a vial of Veritaserum."

One of the servants quickly rushed out and back in, under the watchful eye of Kingsley, presenting Draco with a small vial. Reluctantly, the Slytherin took it from the tray and turned it over a few times in his hand, staring at it as if it contained a disease.

"Mr Malfoy, take the serum," Alex said in a stern yet kind voice.

"What if I do not want to," the blonde said.

"Then I will order it administered to you," Alex stated simply. "The choice is yours, as I presume you like it to be?"

Earning a curt nod from Draco at this correct statement, the Slytherin threw Harry one last withering look before emptying the vial.

"Great," he said mock happily. "Get to it, guys, and stick to the questions that matter."

"Some respect for the Wizengamot is in order, Mr Malfoy," a Wizard said, as he rose from his seat. "Request the word."

"Go ahead," Alex gestured.

"Did you kill Miss Ira Lestrange, daughter to Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Yes."

"By use of an Unspeakable curse?"

A moment's hesitation.

"No."

"Then what happened, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco leaned back lazily, as if he were having a conversation in the cosy surroundings of Malfoy Manor.

"As you all know," the Slytherin started, giving an acknowledging nod at Kingsley. "Miss Lestrange was allowed to escape from capture. Persistent as she was, the girl immediately went looking for my sister, who at that time had just visited me at St Mungo's and was on her way home."

"Did she have anyone protecting her?"

"One wizard, who was taken out by Miss Lestrange. I put a spell on my Patronus and my sister, which sets off my Patronus whenever something threatening and magical happens to Kowaku. So I was warned for the second time today that something was wrong. This time I did not warn anyone, considering the fact that Miss Lestrange was not going to wait around the way she did the first time. I tracked her down and battled her. Also, I'll admit I made no effort _not_ to kill her, because after all Kowaku is my last sane family member and I felt she had no part in the whole Voldemort aftermath. She is a Squibb and has always lived in the Muggle world."

A few gasps interrupted his story, to which Draco rolled his eyes skyward and just moved on.

"I battled Miss Lestrange, both of us got wounded along the way."

"Did you use any Unspeakables?"

Draco's jaw clenched tightly for a second. "Yes, the Crucio curse was fired a few times, and I think it hit her twice. Either way, it did not kill her for she tried to Avada me seconds later. Must say she inherited Bellatrix's resilience."

For a moment, Draco seemed distracted by the past and everyone could only guess just what the former Voldemort supporter was thinking of, until he waved a dismissive hand at nothing in particular and resumed his story.

"I think what actually killed her was a bouncing Diffindo curse that hit her in the chest. I'm sure a look at her body will provide the necessary proof, contrary to this witch hunt, pardon my French."

Alex shot Draco a withering look, which was blandly ignored. "So you are sure you never used Avada Kedavra on Miss Lestrange?"

"No, I'm not," Draco sighed. "Because I fired it the first time we were confronted. It just never hit her." He managed to make the last sentence sound regretful, receiving several disapproving looks from all around the room. Much to the Slytherin's surprise, Harry kept his face straight.

"Anything else you need to know?"

"Why did you need to battle her?"

"Because she wouldn't come quietly," Draco said exasperatedly.

"What did you do after you killed her?"

"You mean after I noticed that a stray curse happened to have killed her," the Slytherin corrected dryly. "I sent a Patronus to Kingsley." He nodded briefly with his head at the Minister.

"Why Minister Kingsley?"

"Good question," the blonde smiled, with eyes like stones. "Why would I call on the Minister for Magic when I have the corpse of an escaped Dark Witch with me?"

"I think the serum is losing its effect," Kingsley remarked curtly.

"Either way," Alex nodded, an evil eye on Draco. "We have the answers we needed. I have one final answer, Mr Malfoy, before the Veritaserum is completely gone. Why did you lie to the Wizengamot about your part in Miss Lestrange's death?"

Draco's lips set in a tight line and for the first time throughout his story, he looked at Harry openly. "Because…"

Hesitation. A tilt of his blonde head to the side. "Because of what Harry said."

Grimacing slightly, the Slytherin was glad no one truly reacted and then rose elegantly from his chair. "_Now_ I suppose you are done with me? The final question to you, Chief Warlock Latto, is where you are sending me."

Watching Draco straighten his jacket arrogantly with a shake of his shoulders, Harry noticed he was still wearing the bloody shirt from the night before and thought the blonde must feel terrible.

"In the light of your declaration I can not condemn you to Azkaban, if that is what you mean," Alex said. "However, you did use Unspeakables. Considering your position as DADA teacher at Hogwarts, I would think you knew better, Mr Malfoy."

"I teach my students to use these spells prudently, when the situation demands it. My situation demanded it."

"I'd like to add that he is right in doing so, Alex," Harry piped up, a curious eye on Draco. "I have seen the students of today and I have heard from Headmistress McGonagall that they might benefit from a new approach. I am sure she would fill you in on the details."

"I am sure she would," Alex inclined his head, shooting the Minister a warning look that seemed to say 'I need a word with you when this is done'. "But until then I would like someone to supervise Mr Malfoy's classes. Minister, I am sure you can appoint someone suitable for the task?"

"Undoubtedly, Chief Warlock," Kingsley inclined his head. Draco resisted the urge to groan, because Malfoys do not groan - in public.

"Then I have nothing left to say to you, Mr Malfoy, but to use your spells more cautiously, perhaps as sensibly as you preach in your classes, and to go home and sleep. I will call for a meeting again in a few months time to see what progress you made and will discuss this with Headmistress McGonagall as well."

Draco fought back the need to make a snide remark and merely nodded once at the statement. Then he stepped down from his chair in the middle of the Wizengamot and walked up to Harry with long, if somewhat stiff strides. Both men stood face to face for a few seconds. Without warning, Draco's hand shot up, quick as lightning; his fingers buried into Harry's hair and pulled the completely baffled Gryffindor into a knee-buckling kiss. Harry's attempts to escape were half-hearted and failed utterly, until Draco broke their kiss, his lips a mere inch from Harry's.

"That is just the beginning," he drawled softly, before letting go of Harry and walking out of the Wizengamot, a smug grin on his face. Harry was left standing in the middle, feeling about every set of eyes on him and his cheeks burning like crazy.


	43. Peace

Draco managed to get himself to St. Mungo's, before he crumpled to the ground, only to land in Harry's arms who was mere seconds behind. The Slytherin barely registered the warm embrace before darkness enveloped him. It cost Harry quite an effort to let go of the platinum blonde and allow the mediwitch to take care of him. Frankly, the Gryffindor thought Draco would not be safe, unless he kept his eyes on him at all times.

So he did.

His friend had been treated appallingly over the last few hours and with his injuries unhealed even before he went after Bellatrix's offspring, it would take Draco a lot longer to recover. Harry sat in a chair near the operating room for several hours, trying to reassemble his mind. Of course Ron and Hermione dropped by, but after reassuring them he was mentally sane and that everything was going to be fine in the end, he succeeded at sending them back home, where they belonged, mainly because Harry needed to be alone with his thoughts.

He sat with his back rigidly straight against the backseat of the chair, in the hallway, staring at the opposite wall, reliving the last two days of his life.

Impatience had always been an issue. Usually he was the one in the hospital bed and his friends had to wait for Harry to come round, but now the Gryffindor found himself at the other end and he did not like it one bit. Honestly, how had Hermione and Ron been able to stand it? Several times he hoped a Mediwitch who came walking down the hallway would bring him news, until eventually he stopped hoping and just waited.

It was a strange thing, being freed from his self denial. Normally when a friend got hurt this badly, a person's primary concern is the improvement of their status, but Harry felt his mind reel back, time and again, to the few seconds before Draco had walked out of the Wizengamot. Shuddering in appreciation, the Gryffindor again tried to keep his grip on reality. It was disturbing how such a feeling could overpower everything else. He'd have to regain control before he went to see Draco…

Or maybe not, he added with a slight smirk, giving in again and surprising himself.

Eventually a Mediwitch who was _not_ busy with something or someone else approached Harry. The Gryffindor was on his feet immediately.

"Is he alright?"

"He will be," she nuanced. "We moved him to a separate room, but it'll be another while before he regains consciousness. Perhaps you ought to go ho…"

"No. What room is he in?"

Looking Harry over carefully, she directed him a few halls further, where the dark-haired man found his friend, out for the count. So he didn't need to control himself, he thought, as he closed the door behind himself. Not much you can do with… Scolding himself, Harry forced himself out of the hormonal mood and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.

Draco looked scarily pale, even against the white sheets and below his eyes Harry noticed dark circles. Perhaps it was best that the Slytherin wasn't aware of that, Harry thought wryly, extending his hand and carefully tucking stray hairs behind Draco's ear. Perhaps he should leave, the Gryffindor now considered, if only to pick up a set of clean clothes and some toiletries. He dreaded the thought of snooping through Draco's stuff at Malfoy Manor, not even sure if the house would allow him in, but he was convinced Draco would appreciate it.

And perhaps he ought to get used to Malfoy Manor somewhat.

Asking the Mediwitch who spoke to him earlier a piece of paper and a pen, he scribbled a short note to Draco, hoping the Slytherin would not wake up during Harry's absence.

"He won't wake up for another few hours, like I told you," she reassured him. "Get some sleep."

Harry ignored her advice, disapparating to Malfoy Manor. It was with no small amount of pleasure welling up in him that he found out the house allowed him in without any spells being triggered. Whenever Draco had changed that was a mystery, but Harry felt stupidly happy, as if his chest was going to expand out of sheer contentment. The doors to the Manor opened and although there were other memories lingering just around the corner, Harry stood glued to the floor in the entrance hall. Draco had changed the manor's interior tremendously.

In the old days, when Lucius and Narcissa had called the shots, this house had been dark and old-fashioned. At least that's how Harry had seen it. Sure, they were wealthy and the house had exuded that much, but it had been old-fashioned all over, heavy curtains, ostentatious furniture, dark colours, and ancient framed paintings against the walls. The book closets had been made from heavy oak, lining walls like a steady stream of darkness. Even its smell had been old, a bit stuffy, as if not enough people came to visit to air the house. Harry knew plenty of people had resided in Malfoy Manor, but he presumed they weren't the type to bother with some fresh air now and then. Their priorities had been somewhat different. Yet at the same time he now knew that Draco's childhood had not been as warped as one might expect, so even if _he_ did not like Lucius and Narcissa's taste, there was no arguing Draco had made some fundamental decisions about the manor.

Harry stood in the middle of a bright entrance hall, its previous wooden floor with heavy carpets replaced by a light-coloured, glossy expensive-looking floor. The material – unknown to Harry's untrained eyes – felt pleasant beneath his feet. No carpets obstructed the seemingly endless flawless veins of the wood, until it stopped at the same marble stairs that lead upstairs. His eyes briefly lingered on the door which led to the drawing room, where he and his friends had been tortured years ago. In that same room was the staircase to the cellar, but he was not very interested in that. Done and dealt with, he mouthed to himself, as he climbed the marble stairs. The scent in Draco's manor was different than anything he'd ever smelled before, but he clearly recognised Draco in it. It made the Gryffindor smile. To recognise someone's scent was something very personal.

Malfoy Manor truly was gigantic, but some things were the same everywhere. Bathrooms and bedrooms were supposed to be upstairs. The walls on either side of him were painted in a bright shiny white, which reflected light to all sides. Light that came from above, Harry noticed, craning his neck and looking upwards to where Draco had had roof windows installed, and from one huge window at the south side of the house, which extended to the first floor, allowing a view on the gardens. Even to Harry, it became clear Draco had gone through a lot of effort to change the atmosphere of the Manor. Opening a few doors in search of Draco's bedroom, he encountered another drawing room with a piano, a work-out room (why wasn't he surprised?), and eventually the bedroom. Draco's scent was even stronger here and Harry breathed in deeply, before opening his eyes again.

The next thing he could only do was gape at the bed. Why did one person need a bed that size? Immediately he regretted that question, because he knew he would not like the answer. Snorting at the sudden jolt of jealousy he felt surging through him, he inclined his head at himself.

"There's a first for everything, so it seems," he murmured as he headed for a closet that covered one complete wall.

Squinting at Draco's abundance, he rolled open one mirrored door, ignoring his reflection, and looked at the shelves full of clothes exasperatedly. What was he supposed to take along?! Closing that door again, he opened another part of the closet, hoping to find something more clear-cut and was awarded with a series of outfits, hanging side by side. After a brief examination, Harry decided not to trouble his mind too much and picked the outfit that looked most casual with a sweater, a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He folded the clothes on the bed, feeling the silky sheets underneath his fingers regularly and resisting a smile. As he straightened back up, Harry stretched… and froze mid-movement when he noticed the mirror about the same size as the bed hanging against the ceiling.

"For fuck's sake, Drake…"

It shocked Harry. Did he expect this kind of thing from Draco? If he was totally honest with himself, the Gryffindor was not surprised, but was he prepared to deal with it as well? He left the neatly folded clothes at the end of the bed and walked to the head, feeling underneath the pillow. His hand returned with a dark green pair of pyjama pants. No top, Harry made a mental note of that and put the folded pants with the clean set of clothes. In the closet he searched in vain for a set of slippers, so eventually he settled for a pair of sneakers, surprised Draco even owned them. Turning back to the other part of the closet, he found a pair of boxers and clean socks in the drawers below the shelves of clothes. The bathroom, he thought, his eyes drawn back to the mirror at the ceiling… Flashes from his dreams returned to him in that instant and his cheeks burned, though he wasn't sure whether it was from shame or anticipation.

"Whoa," Harry mumbled at his own mind, as he headed back to the hallway and took a right, the direction where he hadn't opened doors yet. The first door he opened was the bathroom, which was in accordance with everything else in the house. Of course the man would have a double shower, with the latest massaging and raining system installed. Harry wouldn't be surprised if there was a Jacuzzi somewhere else in the house. Perhaps a tennis court as well? He went for the cupboards at the double sink (why was everything in doubles…?) and opened them to find a wide array of products staring back at him.

"He'll just have to use his spells," Harry muttered, as he packed toothpaste, a toothbrush, a few washcloths, soap, shampoo and deodorant in a toiletry bag and threw in some towels for good measure. In a split second decision, he threw in a bottle of perfume, although he was not sure why. Below the sink, which did not reach the light blue tile floor, he discovered a set of soft slippers, which Harry grabbed along. Now all he needed was a bag to put everything in, he thought, as he returned to the bedroom. A brief scurry through Draco's closet provided him with a small suitcase in which everything fit perfectly.

Feeling suddenly pressured to get back; Harry closed the bedroom door behind him and walked out of Malfoy Manor, sealing it with several additional spells. Outside he instantly disapparated to St. Mungo's, straight into Draco's room. A mixture of regret and elation washed over him when he saw that Draco was still out. At least he hadn't missed anything, hadn't missed the moment those silver eyes would reopen, but Harry thought it would be nice if he would wake up. It would put his mind at ease.

Setting the suitcase down, Harry cursed his stupidity for not bringing a few books along. "Of course," he muttered. "Bring everything, except for something to occupy yourself with."

Sighing, he looked at the sleeping Draco, and sat on a chair as close to the man's head as possible. It's surprising how clear one's head becomes once you make a decision, he thought to himself. Apart from a distinct sense of unease about Draco's unconsciousness, Harry mainly felt relaxed… Content… Somewhat impatient perhaps… His head was no longer swarming with doubt, fear or that gut feeling he was making the wrong decisions.

Eventually sleep overtook the Gryffindor, his head sinking sideways into the sheets at Draco's right shoulder.


	44. Hex You To The Bed?

Perhaps because of Harry's newfound inner peace, it was no surprise that Draco woke up and felt he was gazing at the face of an angel. Immediately he tried to get his Slytherin mind in check, appalled at his own thoughts, then reconsidered that thought and openly stared at Harry's serene face. All this happened in mere seconds, after which a pleasant silence enveloped the blonde, and only the sound of Harry's calm breathing reached his ears.

He would not mind waking up like this more often.

However, he could do without the nauseating feeling of recovering from anaesthetics. Draco was thirsty as hell, but he did not want to wake up Harry. It was not hard to guess that the Gryffindor had stayed by his side the whole time and Merlin knew how long that was. His eyes darted to Harry's unruly hair, a half-mocking smile on his lips, and he registered a suitcase behind the man's left shoulder. This time Draco smiled wider, because that was his. He could not help but wonder if Harry was capable of choosing wisely and the idea of the Gryffindor finding his way around Malfoy Manor pleased Draco immensely. He must have been in his bedroom then…

"Too bad I didn't get to see your face," he murmured, then felt horrified at the sound of his own voice and decided not to speak until further notice. His general state of being was not at all very alluring, but he guessed that was the price to pay for stepping in front of curses and running around saving people.

Which made him sound all too much like the Golden Boy, so Draco instantly made a face. Harry had been rubbing off on him? He considered the thought and decided that was not true. Going after his sister was not a very Gryffindor thing to do, it was a very Slytherin thing to do. Look after your own. His mother had taught him that much.

Blinking his silver eyes a few times against the rush of hunger that overcame him, Draco realised that Gryffindors had always done the same. The only difference was that Slytherins looked after Slytherins or an even smaller group, family, whereas Gryffindors looked after the whole damned world and everyone in it. He snorted gently, earning a painful spasm through his system for it, and then shuffled closer to Harry.

He'd have to wake the man up.

Checking his breath and solving that small disgusting problem with a whispered spell, he softly manoeuvred himself in front of Harry's face. Resisting the urge to smirk, he gently blew some air into the beatific face. Initially all the black-haired man did was wrinkle his nose and twist his face into the sheets, then breathing in deeply and exhaling peacefully.

"Oh, come on," Draco moaned, torn between desire and guilt, his hunger nagging in the background.

As if he'd just been hit by a lightning bolt, Harry's eyes flew open. Green eyes found silver ones and time froze. For a undetermined amount of time, both men looked at each other, eyes roaming the face opposite of them… Eventually Harry smiled, somewhat coyly in Draco's opinion, and stretched like the lion he was, one strong arm over Draco's head and the other hovering over his chest. His face became a bit tentative.

"How can you smell like that after being out for so long?"

Draco chuckled deeply, feeling pleased with himself and receiving a mock reproachful look for it.

"It comes naturally," the Slytherin smirked, still stupidly elated at noticing the effect he had on this man.

"You cheat," Harry snorted, returning to his original spot, his arms folded underneath his chin, looking at Draco. "At what age did you begin practicing your wandless magic?"

"Age four, I think."

Harry looked impressed, but Draco did not want him to be impressed by _that_. His eyes darkened slightly as his thoughts freewheeled. The Gryffindor blushed slightly pink at the cheekbones, as if picking up on it. All hesitation had vanished from Harry's movements, when he reached out and put his hand against the Slytherin's cheek.

"It's good to see your eyes open," he smiled, making Draco's insides tumble. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," Draco said promptly, willing the word to sound dubious and succeeding, by the look in Harry's green eyes.

"Right," the Gryffindor smiled, eyes widening playfully. "I'll call for the nurse to bring you something then."

Draco snorted. "I am hungry, but not suicidal and therefore not eating any hospital food. Get me home, Harry."

Harry stared at his friend hesitantly, his doubts clearly readable on his face.

"Don't look at me that way," the Slytherin moaned. "I want to get out of here."

"You can't just leave," Harry retorted. "You're in no fit shape."

"Wanna bet?"

"No," the raven-haired man said too quickly and blushed. "Sit tight. And I mean it."

"What'll you…"

"I swear I'll hex you to the bed."

"You wouldn't," Draco said testily, narrowing his eyes at Harry's retreating form.

"Wanna bet?"

Without looking back, Harry turned the corner, keeping a spell at the ready in case Draco _would_ test him. The platinum blonde just stared at the door in slight awe, wondering if he would put up with this kind of behaviour from his Gryffindor and failing to decide before the Mediwitch arrived. The discussion about whether or not he was allowed to leave was short, but fiery. In the end Draco, of course, got his way.


	45. Shameless

This is the last chapter. It may not be – and most likely is not –what you expected it to be, but it unfolded this way. Perhaps I have lost you as readers now, but that is the way things go. Either way, thank you all for riding this one out and for posting so loyally. I noticed quite a few of you were there from the beginning. So thanks a million and do leave that very last review (if only to tell me I let you down). Again, thanks for all the nice criticism and reactions I've received. I appreciate them immensely.

Love,

~ Anvan

* * *

_Some things will never change._

That was more or less Harry's only thought as he carefully landed the broom on Malfoy Manor grounds, with Draco's warm body behind him, the suitcase hovering close by. When looking over his shoulder, the Gryffindor saw his friend, leaning into his shoulder, eyes with dark circles under them closed tightly. Perhaps some things do change, he thought, and as he turned to look at the manor, he knew they did. In another era, he would not have stepped foot on these grounds with good intentions.

The man behind Harry did not stir. Gently, Harry twisted his torso to get a better look at Draco. For a few seconds, he seized the opportunity to appreciate the view, regardless how battered Draco looked, before putting a hand against the pale cheek.

"Drake?"

Silver eyes opened instantly, focussing intensely on Harry's face. It was still appalling for the Gryffindor to feel his heart lurch at seeing Draco's reaction, as if it had been missing this someone for way too long. Harry snorted mentally, dismissing that romantic thought. There was no way in hell that Draco and he could have been anything else but enemies in the Voldemort era. His heart had never longed for Draco, until recently. Perhaps a bit less recent than Harry could pinpoint, but that mattered little. Unsure if he could trust his voice, Harry coughed once before talking again.

"We're here."

Nodding, Draco stepped off the broom with surprising elegance. The doors to the manor swung open as they approached in silence, Harry walking quite close to Draco. It took Harry a few seconds to realise Draco was whispering lowly, his voice nothing but a caress to the Gryffindor's ears, and the manor seemed to come to life. Windows all over the manor opened, sending a strong wind through the halls and rooms, carrying with it the heavy scent of the flowers in the garden. The moon threw enough light inside, drowning everything in a pale light, shadows dancing on the walls, ceiling and floor. Harry took a breath or two as he watched Draco walk up the marble stairs.

He knew where they would end up.

Unconsciously he lowered the suitcase somewhere in the hallway, as he silently followed Draco up the stairs. His footsteps seemed too loud, the soft whistle of the wind and Draco's gentle steps the only other sound. Next thing he noticed, taking off his shoes at the top of the stairs, was how soft the ground upstairs felt. Draco stopped for a few seconds at the bedroom door - the room with the mirror against the ceiling, Harry thought bemused – to look at Harry. A vague thought told the Gryffindor that his friend was being a bit theatrical, catching the moonlight perfectly on his profile, before moving again, but he liked the view too much to care. Walking a bit faster, Harry allowed his hand to slide over the wall, until the wall vanished, telling him he had arrived at the door.

He looked inside the room, finding Draco, his shoulders now slumped forward, standing next to the bed and looking extremely helpless. For some reason, Harry's mind insisted on distraction, on a scared kind of hope of what was to follow, but his common sense told him to wrap his arms around the Slytherin and allow him to sleep. Recover. Gain energy.

For days to come.

A rueful smirk tugged at the corner of Harry's mouth, when he walked up to Draco and stopped a hand's length away.

"I thought you were hungry?" he asked softly, touching Draco's hand.

Silver eyes, dark circles set off harshly against his pale skin, looked up and the Slytherin just shook his head. Wordlessly Harry pulled back the soft sheets on the bed to which Draco immediately reacted by sitting down on the mattress. Murmuring gently to his friend, the Gryffindor helped Draco out of his clothes, eyes roaming throughout the process. Despite being exhausted, the Slytherin noticed Harry's looks with great pleasure, cursing his condition.

_Was he truly to waste the first night like this?_

The question could have come from either one of them at one point, watching each other, searching eyes, reading expressions, reactions and hoping to read something that tells you everything is right the way it is. That this moment was without shame, regret or doubt.

Draco – dressed in his pyjama bottoms – finally dug himself into the mattress with a deep sigh, turning to his side and fighting with every last ounce of strength he had to keep his eyes open. Open to watch Harry change. The Gryffindor's face briefly contorted a bit self-consciously when he noticed the silver eyes, glittering contently and not leaving his body. Typically, Harry realised he had no pyjamas of his own until he was standing in his boxers and after blinking helplessly a few times, flashing a half-hearted glare at a snickering Draco, headed for the closet to put on one of Draco's.

That feeling of fatigue, of utter spent-ness came over Harry, when he gingerly crawled onto the bed and literally had a way to go to reach Draco. The Slytherin now turned around onto his back, creating an opening in the sheets, which – to Harry – looked like an extremely appealing and comfortable nest right now. With a sigh the Gryffindor slipped under the sheets next to Draco.

There was no question how they would sleep, Harry thought, as he put two pillows on top of each other and pushed his back into them, opening his arms to Draco. Something in the Gryffindor's face must have told Draco the same, for he obliged without any protest, snuggling into the warmth of Harry's body. Harry could not help but take in Draco's scent, nuzzling into the man's hair, before wrapping his arms around him comfortably, entangling legs lazily and taking a content breath.

Within seconds both men were asleep.

They had a lifetime awaiting them.


End file.
